


Somewhere in Between

by DecayedPac



Series: Black Album Series [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Fantasy, Magic, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:29:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecayedPac/pseuds/DecayedPac
Series: Black Album Series [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598053
Comments: 3
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

Bran:

Bran kept Dancer to a walk looking around the forest as he went. He saw the world around him as if for the first time, having not left Wintefell in so long.

He had broken away from Robb, Theon, and the others to the point he couldn't even hear their voices. Instead the noise was replaced with the sound of a babbling stream of water.

The snow was falling all around him as he looked around himself. As soon as they landed they melted. He felt cold there unable to walk or even feel his legs, while on top of Dancer.

That’s when he started hearing the rustles of leaves. He made Dancer turn only to be greeted by the sight of a ragged man who walked onto the bank.

“Good day to you…” Bran felt the greeting come out as a whisper. It didn’t take long to know they weren’t the friendly sort.

The big bald one spoke first. “All alone? Are you lost? Poor lad.”

“I’m not lost.” Bran denied counting their numbers there had to be at least six. “My brother was here not too long ago, and my guard will be here shortly.”

“Your guard?” Another man spoke with a gaunt looking face. “Does that make you a little lordling? Now that I see you, you look quite comfortable in your furs...mighty pretty.”

That’s when he heard a harsh intake of air from the woman the bald one was standing next to. He watched as her eyes rolled to the back of her head before she fell down into the dirt.

“Osha!” one of them cried as they ran over to inspect her. Bran watched in fascination as her hair turned from it’s dark brown frizzled look to a light purple. 

The hair moved together as if it had a mind of its own. The woman was tall and lean, her spear long since dropped at the same time she fell.

“Her hair...it’s changed!” a woman with gold hair yelled shorter than rob. “What’s happened to her!?”

“Are you with us Osha?” another man seemed to shake the purple haired woman and her eyes flashed open. She took a look around the forest before catching sight of him.

“Is...that a horse?” She asked as if she weren’t here a second ago.

“We don’t have time for this!” The big bald one shouted. “We need to get done here and keep moving south, we can use the horse to carry Osha if she’s been hit with fever. Now then lad, give us the pin first.” Holding out his hand.

“Get down off the horse while you’re at it, and be quick about it!” The yellow haired woman demanded. She pulled a jagged knife from her sleeve.

“I can’t…” Bran was worried so many things were happening at once. The big man grabbed the reins making sure Bran wasn’t able to ride off.

“You will if you know what’s good for you…” The man let the threat hang in the air between them. “What’s this? He’s got straps on!”

“Straps!? Are you some kind of cripple?” The short woman asked.

“I am Brandon Stark of Winterfell, let go of my horse and let me go, or I’ll see you all dead!” Bran put on a brave face the same face he’d seen his father take on.

“Stark…? Winterfell…?” The tall purple haired one slowly got to her feet, using her dropped spear to lean against.

“Like the crow Benjen?” one of the men asked.

“He’s a Stark alright. Only a Stark would be fool enough to threaten where smarter men would beg.” The gaunt man in black laughed.

“Cut his little cock off and stuff it in his mouth!" suggested the short woman. "That should shut him up.”

“You can’t…” the one with purple hair seemed to come back to herself. “He’s important, leave him be.”

“What’s that Osha? Feeling sorry for the little lord?” one of the men taunted.

“Stop bickering, we need to get as south of here as possible. If you all want to die to the White Walkers be my guest, but I won’t let myself be killed squabbling over some cripple boy.” The man holding the reins pulled out a knife of his own and slashed the straps on Bran’s leg.

Bran caught sight of where the man had cut, proof of his reckless swipe came pouring red out of his leg. There was no pain to go along with the wound.

“Put down your steel now, and I promise you shall have a quick and painless death!” Robb called out.

Bran looked up and saw his brother a ray of hope mounted on a horse with an elk slung across the back of his steed.

“The brother,” said the man in all black.

“You mean to fight us all boy?” The straw haired woman taunted.

“Brother of Brandon Stark...too red to be...must be Robb.” Bran turned back around to see the one they called Osha standing at her full height. 

She had a different look about her now, as if she didn’t just fall moments ago. “He can have any name, it doesn’t change that he’s one against six!” another wildling spoke.

Robb then whistled and Bran watched as Grey Wind and Summer emerged from the green. Summer sniffed the air and growled and Grey Wind had blood on his muzzle. 

"Wolves..." gasped the short woman.

“Direwolves.” Bran corrected.

“Might as well be dogs, I'm told there's nothing like a wolf skin cloak to warm a man by night.” He then gestured. “Get them!”

Robb shouted, "Winterfell!" and kicked his horse charging into battle swiping down the first to come at him with an axe. 

Grey Wind was on the next one with the gaunt face in black knocking him into the nearby stream. A few feet away, Summer darted in and snapped at the short woman tearing into her stomach.

One of them tried to retreat only to be chased down by Grey Wind who had finished against his first. Then there were two left. 

Osha and the man holding Dancer by the reins. The bald man went for Bran then before he slumped to the ground his head having taken a blow from the back of Osha’s spear.

“I said to leave him…” Osha shook her head with that, she dropped to her knees. “I am at your mercy. Your brother has been injured, if he needs help I can treat his wound.”

“You will not approach!” Robb commanded before dismounting. He rushed over to her and grabbed her rusty tipped spear and threw it into the stream. 

Then with a sword still drawn backed up to him. Osha made no move from the spot she had sunk to. Robb then looked him over. “Are you hurt? She said you were.”

“He cut my leg...but I couldn't feel it.” Bran pointed at the bald man who Osha had struck.

“Damn. You! Wildling! You said you could help? Do you have any weapons on you?” Robb asked, looking over at Osha.

Osha seemed to take in the question and as if not knowing checked over her body. “No, I don’t believe so.”

“Then come...slowly, take a look at his leg.” Robb commanded. With that Osha came over and peeked at his leg. She slowly lifted her hands to move the cloth covering his leg and get a better look at the gash.

“It’s not too deep, I can heal it fine.” she put one hand over the wound and with a simple swipe over his leg the cut seemed to have mended itself. Leaving only blood still on his leg behind.

“What was that!?” Robb asked a shocked look on his face.

“That my lor-… I mean, m’lord was magic.” Osha explained and wiggled her fingers in front of Bran’s brother’s face. That’s when Bran noticed the arrival of Maester Luwin and Father's guardsmen, including Theon.

Maester Luwin came over to inspect him. “Is that blood?” he asked looking at the healed wound on his leg.

“It’s-” Bran started before being cut off by his brother.

“It’s from the man who tried to attack Bran.” Robb explained. Bran had to wonder why Robb was lying. Bran looked back at Osha who it seemed was looking over each of the guards.

Then Robb looked at them as well. “Where were you?” He demanded of them, glaring them over.

"I spied a turkey," Theon said with an annoyed tone. “How was I to know that you'd leave the boy alone?”

“Do you see anything else Maester Luwin?” Robb turned back to Bran.

“Nothing, what worries me more now is that two of these men are wearing the black.” The older man spoke.

“Deserters from the Night’s Watch and wildlings...to come so close to Winterfell...what is it you were coming here for? Scouting?” Robb turned to Osha.

“No! There aren’t any more with us...or I guess just me now. We were escaping...from the White Walkers!” Osha explained.

“The Long Night is long over.” Maester Luwin seemed confused.

“Tell that to them.” Osha threw a thumb backward over her shoulder as if indicating north.

“Shall we bury them, m'lord?” asked Quent.

“Remove the heads of the deserters...leave the rest to the carrion crows.” Robb answered, not taking his eyes off Osha. “We’ll be taking this one back to Winterfell.”

“Really?” Theon looked disgusted. “You should feed her to the wolves, she’d be of more use.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Robb shook his head. “She comes. Even if she believes that fairy tales are coming after her.”

Bran caught Osha rolling her eyes. “She did save me…” Bran would tell some of the truth if Robb didn’t want to.

“Probably saving her own skin, when she realized she lost.” Theon mocked.

“What’s your name then?” Luwin asked the wildling.

“She’s Osha, it’s what they called her.” Bran spoke for her.

“...you heard the little lord...I’m Osha…” She spoke with a grim acceptance.

“Bind her hands, we don’t want her escaping.” Robb commanded. Bran watched as Robb looked at Osha. She seemed amused as the ropes went around her wrists. 

From there they began the long march back to Winterfell now that they had a new follower with no horse to ride alongside them. 

When they got back to Winterfell it was Robb that took Osha away. Bran was told to clean up after the day he had by Maester Luwin.

Robb:

As soon as he got back to Winterfell he made it clear he was going to question the wildling girl and all she knew. The first thing he needed to check on was if Winterfell was really safe with her there.

“Go on, I’m sure you can get those bindings off no matter what knot they might have been.” Robb gestured to her wrists.

Osha seemed to debate with herself before lifting both arms into the air as the ropes came to life and undid themselves from her wrists. “...taa daa.” She sang softly with a grimace.

“I was right...you can do more than just heal wounds.” Robb was worried was she dangerous?

“Yes, a great many things. I’d give you my word that I’d do you no harm, but I don’t know if you trust me at all despite what I’ve done so far.” Osha explained.

“Yes, I have no trust for wildlings but if you do good work around the castle and help where you can...you will be given more freedoms...I’m unsure if we’d be able to stop you if we tried.” Robb raised an eyebrow.

“I might be able to put up a bit of a fight, but I’m not immortal. I can die by blade or arrow just the same as everyone else.” Osha nodded.

“Unless you mended your wounds in that time.” Robb crossed his arms.

“Some things even magic cannot do.” Osha did not explain further.

Robb started pacing. “So, did you lie in the wolfswood or speak true? Are there no more men waiting for you?”

“There is no one that knows where we have gone. Are you ready to listen about the White Walkers?” She looked desperate to Robb.

“While I allow you to live and work here, I won’t stop you believing in whatever it is you need. But forgive me if I do not believe them true, like you.” Robb didn’t have time for such things, when lions of gold were the real threat to his family.

“Just like my magic is real, the dead walk again north of the Wall! The Long Night comes, and once they get past your Wall and crows where is it they will come next?”

They stared at one another then waiting for the other to flinch. It was him that spoke first. “You will report to Maester Luwin for helping treat wounds that come up, if he has no need for your help...do whatever it is that would most benefit Winterfell.”

Robb then walked away leaving the wildling in the room before he closed the door he looked in at her, “This will be where you sleep, if you do well you might get an actual room.” With that he closed the door leaving the strange girl alone.

Bran:

It was on his way to the Godswood he saw them, he whispered for Hodor to stop. Theon and Osha. She was busy feeling trees by their bark while Theon seemed to talk to her.

“Are you having a go at me?” Theon asked.

“No, I’m looking for a wood that will work. How else am I supposed to find one if I don’t feel it.” Osha waved him off.

“I won’t allow you to create some kind of barbaric wildling weapon. I’m keeping my eye on you!” Theon seemed to be getting frustrated with her. “You’re just an impudent little wench.”

“Call me what you like, won’t change what I’m doing. Shouldn't you make yourself useful, seems I’ve done more here than just waste hot air talking.” From there she moved on to another tree tapping it a few times.

Bran watched as Theon grabbed her by the waist and spun her around. Summer barked once startling the older teen who flinched at the sudden noise. 

“Greetings M’lord.” Osha nodded at Bran, unsurprised by his presence.

“Hello...I’m here to ask you for help, maybe I can help you find what you’re looking for while you help me?” Bran asked, trying to get her away from the Greyjoy.

“Right away M’lord.” Osha broke away from Theon running her shoulder into Theon who was a head shorter than the wildling. Theon seemed to almost fall under the motion. 

“Are you okay?” Bran asked, looking her over. “Theon isn’t the nicest person here.”

“I’m fine, and I would have even if you hadn’t shown up.” Osha smirked before reaching up and rubbing at his head. She then nodded at Hodor who nodded back. “So where am I needed?”

“I was headed to the godswood…” Bran left the sentence unfinished, he was going to pray for his family. They had just received news that the King had died and his mother was not back yet.

“Godswood...do you have a weirwood tree by chance?” Osha asked.

“We do.” Bran nodded.

“I can take you there if this one has other things to do.” Osha volunteered.

“His name is Hodor...and I guess it would be fine?” Bran shrugged. With that Hodor handed him off to the tall wildling who carried him on her own back.

“Just point me in the right direction little lord.” Osha spoke and after a single point she was off. Bran noticed that her hair had changed color to red much like Sansa’s. Bran had missed his sister, he wondered how she was doing at this time.

When they got to the godswood she set him in front of the weirwood tree and started examining the tree herself. “Yes, this is what I was looking for!” She chirped.

Then seemingly on it’s own a branch broke off from the tree and landed in front of her. “Ah, well thank you kindly.” Osha seemingly nodded at the tree before pulling out a knife.

Bran’s eyes widened, when had she gotten that. “This thing?” Osha asked, drawing his eyes back to her face. “Found it on me after I got to Winterfell. Guess I forgot I had it...whoops.” She shrugged.

Osha then sat down on a nearby rock and started carving the branch away from herself. Bran guessed she’d be there the whole time and decided to pray.

“Please make it so Robb won't go away.” Bran prayed softly. “Please make him stay. Or if he has to go, bring him home safe, with Mother and Father and the girls.”

“Where is your brother going then?” Osha asked to his left.

“To war…” Bran answered softly.

“Why’s that?” She asked, he could still hear the sounds of wood being swiped away from the branch onto the ground.

“Because my brother needs to help fight off the Lannisters.” Bran sighed. “And because the new King has declared my father a traitor.”

“Sounds rough…” Osha seemed to fake empathy. He understood, it wasn’t like she really knew them. “If I had to pray...it’d be in hopes we live past the Long Night, if what you are saying about your brother is true...then he hasn’t taken my warning as serious as it should have been.”

“The Long Night? Like in the tales? Old Nan told me about it.” Bran turned toward her once more.

“Yes, and I have seen the dead rise and kill. None of you or us are ready...yet here you all are fighting about kings and other such nonsense.” 

“Nonsense? My father is probably locked in a cell and you are going on about the dead walking, next you’ll say giants still live.” Bran could take the fake empathy, but not her dismissal of his problems.

“They do, or at least Hodor has to be part one.” Osha said with a grin seemingly ignoring his outburst. “They also exist right past the wall...I don’t want to think about when the White Walkers take one for their own.” She shivered.

“Is that why you came south of the wall...to escape the White Walkers?” Bran asked.

“Yes...it’s what you should all be worried about as well, but if a magic wielding wildling won’t convince you then there isn’t much I can do…” She lifted one shoulder and kept the knife sliding down the branch. “A man who won't listen can't hear.”

“Maybe he’ll listen to me?” Bran offered.

“You can try.” It didn’t look like she believed Robb would listen.

“What are you making exactly?” Bran asked.

“It’s called a wand, I needed a tree that had enough magic running through it and well this is as good as it gets.” Osha informed him.

“A wand?”

“Magic is all well and good without one...but with? Let’s just say it was best I make a wand to channel my magic through.” She held the now smaller stick out and seemed to wave it in the air testing its size.

She then plucked one of her hairs which turned black as soon as it left her head. She pulled the hair taut then seemed to push the hair into the wood somehow. 

Probably magic Bran guessed. “Aguamenti.” Osha spoke and suddenly water spouted out from the tip of the wand. Magic was quite real, and she could just do it with a stick.

Bran finished up his prayer and had Osha take him back to Winterfell. He did his best to convince Robb to listen to Osha but he talked of duty. Then there were only two Starks left in Winterfell.

The only ones left it felt to Bran were Rickon, Hodor, Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, and Osha. The rest had marched south with Robb to fight in the Riverlands.

The oldest men left were seventeen to eighteen. Ser Rodrik had quite the time training them up to using swords. Bran found himself feeling the slightest bit of envy, less than he honestly expected.

He did know that he could beat them all had he still been able to use his legs. He had been having dreams of a raven that took him down into the crypts of Winterfell. 

Hodor wouldn't go down with him to check to see if his dreams had meant anything. He thought of asking Osha, but she had been busy helping Maester Luwin with tasks around the castle.

He talked about his dreams with Maester Luwin who gave the task over to Osha anyway...he had tried to not be a bother. But he had turned out to be one anyway.

So here they were Bran, Luwin, Osha, and Summer all standing in front of the crypts of Winterfell. “Think it’s about time we head on, don't you think M’lords?”

Luwin led the pack down the spiral stairs with a torch in his hand. Osha had long been trusted with a larger room since Robb’s leaving. 

Getting Theon’s room while he was away, Bran found the thought humorous. “Cheerful bunch, aren’t they?” Osha spoke looking at the Starks on their stone thrones.

“They were the Kings of Winter.” Bran whispered.

“Seems mighty cocky to think you can lord over the seasons like that…” Osha japed. Luwin and Bran went on to explain the rulers of the north. 

Osha seemed to listen and not interrupt their history lesson. That was until they got to Lyanna. “She’s quite the looker…”

“King Robert was betrothed to marry her, but Prince Rhaegar carried her off and...well…” Bran left the thought unfinished. “Robert fought a war to win her back. He killed Rhaegar on the Trident, but Lyanna died.”

“Robert...that’s the one that just died right?” Osha asked the two of them.

“That’s right.” Luwin informed her.

“Hm...she does have a beauty one might fight for.” Osha moved on.

“And here we are, Lord Eddard's tomb. For when his time comes, is this where you saw your father in your dream, Bran?” Luwin asked him.

“Yes...this is the spot.” Bran nodded and looked around.

“As you see, he's not here. Nor will he be, for many a year.” Luwin turned back towards them when suddenly out of the darkness something came snarling.

Bran was pulled backward by Osha as Summer dashed forward taking down Shaggydog in the torchlight. “Shaggy, no!” Bran heard the voice of Rickon in the darkness.

“Are you here to see father too?” Rickon spoke then to the rest of them.

“There’s no one else down here.” Osha sounded confused.

“Yes he is! I saw him last night.” Rickon defended adamantly.

“In your dream…?” Bran asked, feeling a sudden chill crawl up his spine.

Rickon nodded. “He's coming home now, like he promised. He's coming home.”

“Osha...can you grab the torch I seemed to have dropped it…” Luwin spoke with heavy breaths. Osha leaned Bran against one of the statues as she picked up the torch on her way down she saw her draw her wand.

The wildling made her way over to the Maester and Bran saw dried blood on Luwin's arm...the same as his leg had after Osha had healed him. “What? I could have sworn…” Luwin sounded shocked, “This crypt...it must be playing with our minds…let us all return to my tower.”

“We have to wait for father!” Rickon insisted.

“We can wait for him there.” Bran assured his younger brother. So they went, ending up in the cluttered Maester’s tower. Filled with scrolls and books of many varieties. Luwin washed the blood from his arm as they all sat waiting.

“I understand why you both have had a similar dream, it makes sense if you think about it. Both of you miss your father dearly after his long stay away.” Luwin paced his room. “But you must not put stock in dreams.”

“You say that...but for them to dream of the same thing leading to the same place, there is more going on than just luck.” Osha countered.

“So you’d believe it's magic? Then what does their dream mean if Lord Eddard was not where they dreamed?” Luwin sounded irritated.

“We all already know...just seems some of you can’t accept it yet.” Osha sighed. That’s when they heard the scream of a raven. “It’s here…”

“No!” Rickon cried holding onto Shaggydog for support.

“What does it say…?” Bran asked.

“We all already know…” Osha let her words float from her lips.

Tears began to well in the corners of Maester Luwin’s eyes. “We will need to find a stone carver who knew his likeness well.”

Bran pressed his face into Osha’s stomach as he cried much the same as his younger brother. He worried for Arya, Sansa, Robb, Jon and his mother. If his father could go...so could they. Now there was one less Stark in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Bran:

It was not long after the news of his father's death did the comet streak across the sky. The two remaining direwolves howled at it, as did all wolves from the woods.

Maester Luwin said they all mistook it for the moon to howl at. When he gave Osha the Maester’s theory she said it was possible. 

But what she theorized herself made him think troubling thoughts. “They say when a comet streaks like that, it means a dragon is born...do you think they might come back?”

Osha was already proof that magic was coming back, if the Long Night was coming why not dragons to go along with White Walkers. Or ravens with three eyes.

Old Nan seemed to agree with Osha, it seems they both believed things that were long dead, were coming back. Robb was still gone, but news came that he had declared or been declared the King of the North. 

If he was honest he just wanted his brother back. He wanted all his family back in Winterfell, but even if they all came back at once it would never be the same. 

His father was dead, slain on command of the new King Joffrey. Since he had dreams of his father in the crypt, he’d begun having dreams of being a wolf, like Summer.

They were now taking care of Freys from the Twins. Shaggydog had bit one of them causing Summer and Shaggydog to be locked in the kennels. He complained about it to whoever would listen.

Osha had snuck him down to visit Summer on occasion. However they always left his direwolf when it was time for her to get back to work, or for him to sleep.

He was locked up just like them. Only the castle was his cage. As much as he wanted to ride Dancer out of the gates, he wasn’t allowed to. They were at war, which had taken everything away from him at once.

Lord Wyman Manderly had arrived from White Harbor. With him he brought knights, squires, lesser lords and ladies. They had arrived for a feast. 

He greeted them all when they arrived, like a lord should Ser Rodrik told him. He was Robb’s heir, so he would act the part even if he hated it.

He wished instead that he could train with the knights and squires like he once may have. Instead he was limited to words from the back of Hodor. 

Luwin had once told him he would get stares. The Maester was right and he tried to be used to them but no matter how much he knew he still felt their eyes on him.

Bran had been teased by the newly arrived Freys. It seemed that whenever it got close to getting out of hand Osha would arrive seemingly lost in the background of it all and something would happen that no one could explain.

Bran knew better and silently thanked her whenever they had a chance of passing by one another. He was coming upon his ninth name day and he didn’t know exactly what he wanted. Perhaps sudden peace would be a nice wish…

Bran had spent his days listening to Ser Rodrik and Lord Wyman. Maester Luwin put him there to learn, he said. Learn what Bran wondered, he couldn't even talk of war.

Bran had also heard of Bolton movements at the Dreadfort. They spoke of a bastard, he wondered if he was at all like Jon. When he heard more it did not sound favorable, and nothing like how kind Jon was.

They also said King Joffrey was a bastard born from the Queen and her twin Kingsgaurd. Bran did notice that while they were all at Winterfell they looked more like the Queen than the King.

Then came the feast itself. Men drank, partied, sang, and played with women. They celebrated Robb’s victories. For the harvest, for the Starks that had ruled for years.

He was sitting where his father once did. Placed there by Hodor and Osha. Ser Rodrik was seated to Bran's left, his daughter Beth beside him. Rickon was to his right.

Osha minded his back like a gargoyle of a tower keeping watch on all the guests. He wondered why she didn’t join the rest. For a wildling she hardly acted anywhere close to what she was called.

He spoke a small speech of Robb’s victories and of the harvest like they all wanted. They seemed to appreciate it just fine with a cheer at his final words.

Course after course came with hardly a few bites as they were passed down. Osha had stolen a few plates away from him before he could reach them. 

With all she did in her defense was a poke of her tongue from her mouth. He appreciated that she did not treat him any different than she did before. Same as Hodor.

Songs were sung and played by Lord Wyman's musicians. He heard Osha hum a few unfamiliar tunes behind him. Bran wondered if they had many different songs north of the wall, or if they had little time for such a thing.

Hodor danced if it could be called that, at least he was enjoying himself. Bran enjoyed that someone could. At the high table sat the Freys, Robb was to marry one of their aunts so they were granted a place.

It also seemed Arya was promised to their uncles as well. When Bran explained Arya to Osha, saying she reminded her of his sister she wore a great big grin. 

When he told her of his sisters supposed arranged marriage she snorted in derision of the practice. Bran also disliked talks of marriage. 

Bran felt he was about ready to burst by the time the duck had come out. As he looked out over the seats below him, he wondered who would be missing in a years time.

All of his father's guards had died in King’s Landing. Now new faces tried to replace them. He might have cried then, but he couldn't. 

He was the Stark in Winterfell, his father's son and his brother's heir, and almost a man grown. That was when two more guests joined the feast.

“The Lady Meera of House Reed," the guard bellowed. "With her brother, Jojen, of Greywater Watch.”

“Crannogmen. From the Neck…” Bran whispered to himself as he looked at them. They came to him and pledged themselves to Winterfell.

After he accepted their pledge, it was Jojen the brother that asked to see their Direwolves. After they went about the feast, Bran found himself staring at Meera Reed.

When she caught him staring he looked away with a blush. “Hodor...Osha, I’d like to go.” Osha helped place him on the back of Hodor and they left for his bedchamber. 

Bran felt all the guest’s stares as he left the Great Hall. Osha had followed him and Hodor out of the hall. “I hope you have peaceful dreams.” Osha spoke as Hodor took him up the steps to his room. “After all you’ve eaten it would not be good to have a bad one.”

Bran wrinkled his nose at the comment but Hodor seemed to agree. When he slept he once again dreamed of being a wolf. He heard and saw Jojen and Meera in the godswood then nothing else.

He told Osha of his dreams as well as Jojen and Meera. Jonjen had gone on to call it dreams of a greenseer. Meera said she had no such dreams but the ones Jojen had were true, and that they came true.

When he asked Osha if she too was a greenseer as well as a mage she laughed. “No, I have no dreams of the future. I’ve known people who had dreams though. What is it you dream of Brandon?”

“Wolves...three eyed ravens, and the sea.” Bran told her vaguely.

“Wolves, what about them?” Osha asked for more details leaning down to look him in the eyes.

“I dream I am in the godswood, when I look into the pool in the godswood...I see Summer.” Bran confessed.

“You dream that you look through the eyes of Summer then?” Osha summarized.

“Yes.”

“Hm, I do not believe what you are doing is dreaming, little lord. No, there are those beyond the wall with magic even different than my own. They call it warging...I think. The ability to control the mind of animals, as if possessing them fully.”

“What about my other dreams? I did not become the three eyed raven in my dream, merely followed behind. Also the sea is no animal.” Bran insisted.

“As to what those dreams might mean? I know little of three eyed ravens...no that I cannot say. But as to your sea can you go into more detail?”

“I dreamed that the sea was lapping all around Winterfell. I saw black waves crashing against the gates and towers.” Bran remembered drowned men as well.

“Fucking symbolism, hm.” Osha cursed. “I believe his name was Theon, the one with the squid on his armor. The one that left with your brother south.”

“What about him?” Bran asked.

“He talked about his father proudly to me. As if I would be impressed by his title. He explained a few things, about torture by the sea done to criminals. From where is it he comes?” Osha asked.

“The Iron Islands...He is a Greyjoy.” Bran explained, it seemed she had a theory.

“Why was it a boy from the islands is here on land. In the north?” It was as if she was leading him forward.

“The Greyjoy rebellion...at least the most recent one. Once Robert Baratheon had become king, they started attacking. They were put down and Theon was forced to foster here.” Bran recited from memory.

“And who is King now?” Osha asked.

“Which one…” Bran sighed...then he realized. “Everyone is fighting...why would the Greyjoys wait around while we fight among each other.”

“You almost came to that conclusion all by yourself. I’m almost impressed.” Osha stretched.

“We need to prepare...oh no...Ser Rodrik is out dealing with the Bolton problem…” Bran had little to no men left in Winterfell. He had to speak with Maester Luwin.

It seemed his worries were for nothing. Ser Rordrik came back to Winterfell with a prisoner. A man named Reek. Putting those worries aside he told Ser Rodrik to drill the troops for a possible attack from the Greyjoys.

Ser Rodrik seemed unsure but didn’t seem to mind the idea of training the men harder for possible attack in the times they were in. 

It was weeks later that he heard of the attack on Torrhen's Square. Ser Rodrik seemed under the belief that it was time to send out all the troops they had trained and amassed.

Bran had attempted to stop them claiming it was Winterfell that would be taken by the sea. However both he and Luwin stepped in to say it was not a good lord that did not protect those under his banner.

“Osha!” Bran had found the wildling throwing magic around in the godswood. They shone colors that mystified him.

“What is it little lord?” Osha turned to him, dropping her wand back into her sleeve.

“They’ve left us. I know the Greyjoys are behind the attack on Torrhen's Square. They mean to lure us away. Leaving us undefended!” Bran felt heavy breaths leave his lungs.

“Don’t worry, while we may not have numbers we do have something they do not...plans for their arrival.” Osha assured him runner her hands through his hair.

“What will we do?” Bran leaned into her touch.

“Let them think they have us...so that they might expose themselves, then when they expect nothing...I will strike for all of us.”

“Your plan is...for us to get caught?” Bran seemed unsure.

“They cannot expect the unexpected when they have let all their defense down.” Osha’s grin had finally revealed something of her that was wild.

Bran was sleeping when his door burst open. The man who stepped through was no one Bran knew. "What do you want?" Bran demanded, afraid for his life. "This is my room, get out of here."

That was when Theon Greyjoy walked into the room behind the man. Yes...this was it. The betrayal stung more than he expected. He still needed to be brave and play his part like planned.

“We're not here to harm you, Bran.” Theon spoke with a new voice that was new to him.

“Theon? Did Robb send you back to man Winterfell?” Bran asked feeling dumb.

“He sent me to Pyke. Now I am Prince Theon, a matching title with yours funny how that worked out, hm? Unfortunately I’ve taken your castle...my prince.”

“Winterfell!?” Bran tried to sit up straighter as a show of movement. 

Theon seated himself on the bed. "I sent men over the walls with grappling claws and ropes; they simply opened the gates for the rest of us. My men are your people together in the courtyard, Winterfell is mine."

“Why the courtyard…?” Bran couldn't believe it. An open space where all the Greyjoy men would be open to the plan.

“So you can speak to them. You'll tell them how you've surrendered Winterfell to me, and command them to serve and obey their new lord. Where is Hodor?” Theon asked.

“I don’t know...I was sleeping.” Bran added.

“Find the half wit Werlag.” Theon commanded and the other man left the room. “So, to protect your people, Prince Bran. Yield your castle to me. Someone will be sent to help you dress and take you outside. Think carefully on what you want to say.” With that Theon left his room.

It seemed all too perfect when Osha walked in seemingly unharmed. “Are you alright?” Bran asked.

“A few spells of the mind drove the squid men off.” Osha assured him.

“Good...Theon says he has Winterfell.” Bran looked up at her.

“Yes...they are gathering everyone outside. There are many men...but less than it would normally take to overtake a castle. I’ll be able to work with that. I’m sorry to say they killed men that could have fought with us…”

“Ser Rodrik took too many men...it’s time I was dressed.” Bran felt resigned.

“Where would your best clothes be then?” Osha asked. Bran pointed and Osha started to dress him for what would come. 

When they stepped out Luwin was taking care of Rickon who looked cranky. The Maester had damage to his face and eye. With fresh blood still pooling in the cracks of his face.

Theon Greyjoy was standing in the center of it all there was a makeshift seat there for him to be next to Theon. He had taken off his cloak. He wore a black surcoat emblazoned with the golden kraken of his House.

“What are they doing here?” Theon asked pointing at the two Reeds, and Freys.

“Jojen Reed and his sister Meera, son and daughter to Howland Reed of Greywater Watch...the others are Lady Catelyn's wards, both named Walder Frey.” Maester Luwin explained.

“More to stay then, bring the prince here!” Theon yelled. Osha carried him over and sat him on the barrel softened with a grey blanket.

“We found a man locked up!” One of the Ironborn spoke to Theon. That was where Bran saw Reek once more. He still smelled the same as he had gone in.

“Keep him away...he can be locked up once we’re done here.” Theon also seemed disgusted. “Now…” Theon lowered himself to whisper in Bran’s ear. “A good lord protects his people...now speak to your people…”

Bran took a deep breath and remembered words spoken by his brother. “...FOR WINTERFELL!”

That’s when he felt a sudden heat behind him. A new light had come into existence seemingly from nothing. Fire shot into the sky as it formed itself into what looked like a snake. 

It was as if it was a living breathing animal. It roared into the sky as it dropped to the ground suddenly and slithered across the castle grounds. 

Bran had to look away as it pushed through Ironborn after Ironborn. Anyone that had a sword to his people burned alive screaming. The smell filled his nose and lungs, burning flesh making him feel sick.

He saw horror on the face of Luwin and fear on Hodor’s. The flames went across the walls as they burned all of the invaders leaving only Theon next to him.

When he looked to his right he saw the new...prince gaping at the magic unfolding in front of him. The snake of fire took a look back at Bran before being flushed out by an invisible wind.

He heard movement behind him as Osha’s voice spoke softly to him. “Winterfell is once again yours, little prince.”

Bran turned himself around on the barrel to see Osha holding a dagger to Theon’s throat with her wand hand still holding the weirwood stick.

“...lock him away, I don’t want anymore bloodshed.” Bran spoke softly. “Hodor, I’d like to go back to my bedchambers.”

“Hodor.” Hodor spoke walking over and picking him up and taking him back. Luwin followed after him. As he left he watched Osha shove Theon forward where he marched to the Winterfell dungeons.

Theon:

One moment he was asleep the next, he was awake. There was a change in light and movement he could hear. When he opened his eyes he was shocked to find Ser Rodrik standing just outside his cell.

“What would Lord Eddard Stark say, if he knew...you were raised here! Those people you murdered were of the north same as you. You may have had the name Greyjoy but you were of the north same as them!” The old man had pure hate in his eyes.

“They weren’t! Not really!” Theon tried to scream back.

“King Robb thought of you as a brother! When he gets back...I do not know what he’ll do.”

“I was a prisoner!”

“No! Now you are, you were like a son to the Starks.” Ser Rodrik looked tired then.

“I was not! I was a hostage, nothing more. Taken from my real home. Stark was no father.” Theon turned away.

“Is that what you wanted. The attention from a father? Well you went to your real father, and gave you some attention. Now look where you’ve ended up...I would kill you myself it was up to me, but it is not. I will not come back, you can sit here and rot for all I care.”

Ser Rodrik then left him there in the cell with hay strewn about the floor. With little more than a single thin blanket for warmth. In the next cell over was the man called Reek. 

What Theon wouldn't give to have his nose taken away with the stench of the man. The next one to visit him came as a surprise. 

It was the wildling witch. The one who had burned his men and threw him in here. “You!” He grabbed the bars and tried to get at her.

“Me!” She laughed. “Alright enough of that, we have serious matters to talk about.” She waved his anger off like she could just be rid of it.

“What are you!” Theon felt spit gathering in his teeth.

“I am no one important. Now, you men, is there anything I should know about how to deal with...Ironborn dead?” She asked him, raising an eyebrow. “Or should I just bury them outside Winterfell?”

“What?” Theon was thrown from her anger.

“Your dead, boy!” She stood at her full height. “What do you want to do with them?”

“...uh...cast them to the sea...so that they might find the Drowned God.” Theon tried to remember.

“The sea? Shit...well at least I wouldn't expect them to get back up…” She spoke to herself. Then turned back to him. “You know, I’ve got your room now. It was a bit sparse, I made it my own I’m sorry to say.”

“You? A wildling woman that came here bound? After what you did? They’ll kill you or lock you up here with me soon. Magic will scare them to move against you.” Theon tried another tactic.

“Maybe, maybe not. You know that sea burial makes sense. You talked about how your people treated criminals to me once...this cell seems a tad better than having your last minutes be a torture.” The purple haired wench went to sit down on a chair appearing from the air.

“Do you think I should be thankful?” Theon raged.

“Well, for a prisoner before this you seemed to have it pretty well. As soon as you turned the walls started speaking of you. For someone to turn on the Starks, they must have treated you terribly.”

“...what?” Where was she going with this?

“Well that’s what you were right? I heard about it from the little prince. A hostage from the rebellion your father tried. Do you know what they say out there? That you were trained here, ate here, grew up here, and even were paid here. What you did with that money...well. That’s not for polite company now...is it?”

“So they speak of me, so what?”

“Well for being a prisoner they allowed you to have quite the amount of freedom. They say it was no secret what they allowed you to do. What with your visits to the brothels and all. Would your Ironborn folk provide you with the same freedoms? Even now as you sit in that cell, after all you’ve done. Would you be where you are, if you tried it on anyone else?” With that she stood up her chair returning to nothing before also leaving him.

Why is it that everyone was lecturing him. She was right though. He was being treated far better than he expected to be. Which left him with a question, what now?

After his failing to take Winterfell...what would happen. He was sure his father would not bother to save him. He hadn’t before, and now Theon had lost more of his men without even securing a nearly empty castle.

Who was his ally in all this misery. No...he was well and truly alone for the first time in forever. He was no better than the man sleeping the cell over...what kind of name was Reek anyway.

Bran:

The night after Theon attempted to take Winterfell Bran dreamed once more. The three eyed raven being the focus of it. He dreamed he flew after the black winged bird. 

They flew through snow and over the Wall. The Night’s Watch all asleep below. He found himself wondering if Jon was still alive there.

He followed the raven past the wall even further north where he was his with a sudden need to move. To be there...north of the wall. His next thoughts were of Winterfell.

He had promised to stay and watch over the castle for Robb. Then he remembered his dreams. Of the sea coming to take Winterfell. 

They had stopped it. Of his father in the crypts...both came true...what did this dream mean. Was it something to stop, what would the consequences be if he did not.

He knows that he must go. In the morning he asks that Hodor take him to Osha. “I’ve had the dream of the three eyed raven again.” He informs her.

“And what was the dream of?” She asked.

“Flying north of the Wall. I felt a need to go there. I think I have to go there.” Bran is sure.

“Going north of the wall...you venture towards death.” She simply states.

“Robb did not go north, that means I have to.” Bran was absolutely sure of it. “I want you to go with me, you know the north of the wall more than anyone else here.”

“Call me selfish...but I won’t. I fled that place for a reason, and what of here? Your brother Rickon? Is he going on this trip as well?” Osha asked him.

“No, he is too young. He’ll stay in Winterfell where it’s safe.” Bran already planned that.

“Safe? Theon took the castle, his plan would have worked had I not been there. You may have more troops here now, but Winterfell isn’t as safe to be as you claim it. Not with all it’s troops in the south.” Osha shook her head.

“Then stay here...protect Rickon. I’m still going north of the wall.” Bran was resolute.

“I won’t stop you, who will you be taking?” Osha asked.

“Well...I need Hodor and Summer...I think the Reeds will come with me as well.”

“Probably.” Osha agreed. “Then I will keep Winterfell yours while you are away. No one shall take it under my watch.” She promised.

When Bran went outside it seemed Jojen and Meera were already loading their horses. Jojen told him that he had a dream of his own. 

They would escort him wherever he would go. Before he left he said a goodbye to his snoring brother Rickon. He wrote a note and left it in his room giving Osha the same amount of power as Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik would have, as Regent of Winterfell.

Then he left for the wall. Leaving Winterfell with only one Stark left in its walls. Osha would keep him safe. He knew she would keep her promise.

Theon:

“Get up.” Theon startles at the voice and looks up to see the witch once more. “I said get up, you’re needed.”

“And what would I be needed for?” Theon asked.

“It seems your sister has arrived to trade for you. We just need proof that you live.” Osha opened the cell to his room with a wave of her hand. She then moved out of the way and allowed him to go first.

The sky was grey as he was shoved outside. He was brought to the top of the wall above the gate. Below him outside of Winterfell was Yara. She only had twenty men.

This was definitely not a rescue. “Well you’ve seen him! Now what do you want?” The wildling yelled down at his sister. “Look at them, I count twenty...you think they have a chance?” She whispered to him.

He felt ice in his chest at the thought of his men burning by her hand. “Please...don’t.”

“Don’t worry, I’m no Greyjoy.” She taunted.

“We can give back one of your bannerman’s castles. The Deepwood Motte.” Yara yelled up at them.

“How many men are left?” Maester Luwin had arrived. “To run the Motte?”

“None with weapons training…” Yara seemed to answer truthfully.

“We’re sorry to say then it will not be enough...King Robb has asked for Theon to be sent to him alive.” Luwin spoke. It was news to Theon, he was well and truly fucked.

“We will also leave Winterfell be...it is too far inland to be held anyway. My brother is a fool who wanted to prove a point, more than he thought of how to keep it.” Yara insulted him. “We don’t have much else to give.”

“Then I’m afraid Theon will stay with us.” Maester Luwin spoke to his sister.

“Well...we tried. Good luck, Theon.” She started to march away.

“Wait!” The wildling spoke, halting everyone. “We have dead Ironborn, we’ll give them to you so that you may set them out to see as is your custom.” She turned back into the castle and yelled down into the yard.

The gates opened and a cart of all his men was pulled forward on a horse. Yara looked the cart over before nodding. “You have my thanks...if only for this.”

Theon watched from the wall, this would be the last he saw of his family. He felt it in his gut. Abandoned once more to Winterfell. Where did it all go so wrong.

He heard something outside of the dungeons he was kept in. Days had passed since he had been brought out. He had been treated well, at least better than Reek.

However the noises he was hearing now were that of battle. He could hear the telltale signs of metals smashing against one another and the thrum of arrows piercing air.

Smoke had reminded him of the men the wildling witch had burned. Had Yara tried to attack again? Was she there to free him with reinforcements. He knew nothing.

The din of steel gradually diminished to nothing, and the shouts and war horns gave way to absolute silence. Then a voice broke out over all of Winterfell as if magnified tenfold.

“FOR WINTERFELL!” The familiar words sent somewhat of a chill down his spine, the voice belonged to the witch. So they had won against whoever it was they were fighting.

“No...No!” Theon looked over at Reek who was holding onto the bars his hands white with pressure.

“What’s wrong?” Theon asked the smelling man.

“How could they know...unless they attacked first?” Reek rubbed at his forehead thinking aloud to himself. “The woman burned my man the same she did to yours…”

“Your men? How does a serving man get men?” Theon asked.

“I’m no serving man!” Reek yelled at him showing true madness in the darkness of his eyes.

“Calm down Reek…” Theon tried to assure the man in the matching cell.

“My name isn't Reek! That wretch is long dead! Killed by that damned Rodrik that came in to yell at you on your first night here! My name is Ramsey! I am a Bolton!” He raged in his cell.

“A Bolton? Why do they think you are called Reek?” Theon couldn't understand.

“Don’t you get it, fool? I took on the guise as Reek to escape my crimes, they killed Reek in my stead as Ramsay Snow. You complain of prisons...yet you know nothing of being a bastard of Roose Bolton...now here we both are…” It seemed the fight had gone out of Ramsay as he lay down in his bed once more.

Theon heard weeping as Ramsay looked into the ceiling of his cell. “This was my one chance…”

The door to the dungeons opened and the woman with purple hair marched in holding an armored man by the back of the neck. “Point at the man who told you to come here in arms. Tell me who it is that wanted to take Winterfell for his own!”

She shoved the man forward and he fell to his breastplate. The man looked him over and Theon almost feared he’d point at him. 

Then the man slowly lifted his arm and pointed at the man in the other cell. Ramsay Snow. “You will go back outside where Ser Rodrik will be waiting for you…” The witch spoke to the man who ran out of the dungeons.

“Have you come to kill me?” Ramsay asked in a small voice.

“It is not for me to kill you, just for me to find out who you are.” With a wave of her hand the door to Ramsay’s cell opened. He attempted to charge her before he suddenly stiffened like a board.

“Not wise to charge me like you did, is it?” She asked the stiff man. She pulled a stick from her sleeve and pointed it at Ramsay. “You will walk out of the dungeons and find Ser Rodrik. You will state your name and all the crimes you’ve committed then you will kneel and wait for me.”

Ramsey suddenly unfroze from his stiff form. When he stood back up Theon saw glazed eyes that followed her commands out of the dungeon. 

“Phew...crazy day, I wonder if I can charge the Bolton’s themselves for all his crimes…” She shook herself off before turning to him. “Well, all in a day's work you know.” Then she left him there thinking about what had just transpired right in front of him.

One thing was for sure, he was glad he wasn’t Ramsay Snow about now. He was more than fine being Theon Greyjoy.

Arya:

Despite the fact the North had taken Harrenhal from the Lannisters, Arya thought it best to keep her identity hidden among them. So when she heard the news she tried to not let herself react.

It was Ser Hosteen that spoke first. “The war is lost. King Robb must be made to see that.” These were his own men speaking like this.

Roose Bolton spoke next in his small whisper countering Ser Hosteen. “His Grace has defeated the Lannisters every time he has faced them in battle.”

“He even almost lost the north! Did you hear what happened? The Ironborn nearly took it, from the raven we got from their Maester down there. And don’t think we didn’t notice that raven that went directly to you Roose!” Hosteen Frey yelled.

“Yeah! Word is that there is only one Stark left in Winterfell. The small one...Rickon was it?” Ronel Rivers scratched his chin. He was one of Lord Walder's bastards.

“The raven was news from my Dreadfort...worrisome news not for anyone else to hear.” Bolton breathed out.

For a moment Arya forgot to breathe. Only one Stark left? What did that mean? Rickon was alright though? But he was only four...and Bran was crippled. And what about the Ironborn attacking? 

She felt tears gathering in her eyes, and a choking up of her throat but willed them away. She needed to get back north somehow...she just had to.

“King Robb must make his peace with the Lannisters, little as he may like it.” Ser Hosteen spoke bluntly.

“Who would tell him?” Bolton asked. From there the discussion wound down, Arya peeling the leeches from the Dreadfort Lord. Her next plan...would be to head for Riverrun if she could.


	3. Chapter 3

Arya:

They had arrived at High Heart. The outlaws wanted to find Beric Dondarrion's whereabouts. Their plan was to ransom her for gold.

While there they came across an old dwarf woman, a foot shorter than Arya and older than Old Nan. “The old gods do not let me sleep…” she complained to Tom, Lem, and Greenbeard.

“What is it you saw?” Greenbeard asked.

“I dreamed I saw a shadow with a burning heart butchering a golden stag...a familial sting. A woman with rainbow hair waiting in the north with a single pet wolf and squid. A drowned crow with seaweed hanging from its wings. Then of a roaring river and dead woman that was a fish, eyes open in terror.” The old woman spoke.

Arya thought of her as a ghost. Tom Sevenstrings explained that the old woman was not a ghost, but she knew things she had no business knowing. 

From there they went to Acorn Hall and followed the trail of Thoros to where he might be next. And closer north still.

They had found Beric and Thoros long after. Which prompted them to return to High Heart once more. That was where once again she saw the dwarf woman who knew things.

She stared into the fire, where Thoros claimed she saw the future, past, and present. “Ah, his Grace the Lord of Corpses!” The old woman greeted Beric.

“I have asked you not to use that name…” Beric sighed.

“You may have...but death still lingers on you smelling most recently. I want my pay of song from Tom once more.” She looked harshly at them all.

“You will have it.” Lord Beric promised her.

“Then let us start with sour news...a King is dead.” She started.

“Which bloody king is dead, crone!” Lem shouted.

“Pft, the kraken king! The wet one! They now turn on one another...I once told you of the crow...now it is drowned. More news of death seems fitting, Lord Hoster Tully is dead too....but you knew that. Then I dreamed about drums and pipes and screams, where a lone wolf howled in the rains.”

“Are there only dark tidings?” Lord Beric asked.

“No, there is a bit more...though I cannot say if it is dark or light. Simply that it is. The woman of rainbow hair still waits. With kraken and wolf at heel. Waiting for the dark to fall, and for all players to arrive. She thinks of helping, but does not move because she fears change.”

That was when she stopped and turned to look at her. “You cannot hide from me, child. Come closer, now.” The woman beckoned. “Wolf child...you should not be here.”

“She will leave on the morrow. With us.” Lord Beric explained. “We will take her to Riverrun, to her mother Lady Catelyn.”

“You cannot, for that is where the Blackfish holds the rivers. If you want her mother...she’d be at the Twins...there is a wedding.”

They had been so sure of Riverrun...but now they would be going to the Twins. Arya was tired for Freys and now she would see more.

No she would now allow it to happen. All she wanted was to go to Riverrun. It was her own fault for taking Gendry and Hot Pie with her when she left Harrenhal.

If she didn’t have to wait on them she wouldn't be captured. She would be alone and have gotten to Robb and mother by then. 

Arya might have been home in Winterfell with Rickon, who she hoped was still well. She hadn’t heard news of Bran since. When night fell she fled, coming to muddy water a mailed hand closed hard around her arm and pulled her in.

“Let go!” Arya cried trying to fight the person off.

“I don’t think I will…” That’s when she saw the scarred face of the Hound. Sandor Clegane had her. “Bugger that, wolf girl. You're mine.” He carried her away to his horse, she had traded one group of captors for a single.

It seemed that she was still heading to the Twins. The house of the Freys seemed to be the only destination she would go in the near future. 

They took a ferry across the Trident, a near death experience she would not want to relive again. The Hound was added to her list three times over from that alone.

From there they camped and Arya told him about being captured by his brother. The Hound had a great laugh at his brother’s lack of wit. “I'll be sure and tell him about that mistake, before I cut his heart out.”

“Isn’t he your brother?” Arya asked.

“Aye. I’ll kill him all the same.”

“What if I kill you before you get the chance?” Arya tried to intimidate him.

“Still want to kill me over the little butcher's boy. I've killed a lot more than him. I might be a monster to you...I might just be a monster, but I’m not all bad. I saved your sister from the mobs...offered her a chance to run away with me too. Away from King’s Landing, should have taken me up on it.”

“After you take me to the Twins, what then? Get some gold?” Arya asked.

“Gold, and possibly more. Who knows.” The Hound shrugged. As much as Arya wanted to run, she didn’t know where they were, but it seemed the Hound did. 

If they were going to the Twins anyway then she would see mother and Robb, it was best to just...stay put.

“What business do you have at the Twins?” The knight asked.

“Salt pork for the wedding feast, if it pleases you.” The Hound mumbled face hidden. They were disguised as farmers. Sandor had robbed one of his wagon and supplies.

“Salt pork never pleases me. If I’m honest.” The knight laughed. “Who is it you serve?”

“Old Lady Whent.” The Hound lied.

“Gods, is there any fool like an old fool…? Go on then.” The knight waved them forward.

“Aye m’lord.” The Hound replied and whipped the wagon forward. “Ser Donnel Haigh...I nearly killed him once.” He spoke to her. “In a melee. Now act like I just did. Keep your eyes down and your tone respectful.”

They both heard music before they saw the castle. Loud bass from the drums being beaten. Some loud horn players. “We’ve missed the wedding...we can still make the feast, I’ll get my golds worth of you yet.”

They made their way through a camp of men selling and trading goods. Eating what they could outside of the castle. They were stopped at the gate by men holding flayed man banners.

“What business do you need in the Twins?” the Bolton knight asked.

“Salt pork for the wedding feast.” Sandor repeated to the newer man.

“Salt pork!? For a lord's wedding feast?” The man spoke scornfully.

“Got pickled pigs' feet too, Ser…” Sandor tried to pry the man like a nut.

“The feast's half done...you’re late and now the castle is closed. You will not disturb the feast with your offerings. Unload over there with the tents. Ask for Sedgekins, and do as he says.” 

Doing as he asked Sandor headed to the pavilions where the common soldiers were made to stay. They passed by many men, Arya did not recognize any she knew.

“Here's to Lord Edmure and Lady Roslin!” A man yelled before another joined him.

“And to the Young Wolf and Queen Jeyne.” A northern voice spoke with an accent. It was followed by someone spitting in the dirt and mud.

“We’ll be heading into the castle one way or another. Your brother and mother would be inside.” Sandor informed her.

“What about Sedgekins?” Arya asked.

“Sedgekins can bugger himself with a hot poker. All we need to find is your brother.” Sandor whipped the cart forward once more. Ahead loomed the castle gatehouse, she could see torches moving on the walls.

“The castle isn’t closed.” Arya observed the bridge to the twins leading inside just fine. The Bolton sergeant was wrong.

“Fuck...get down.” Sandor shoved her head down. They both laid themselves in the back of the wagon hiding as riders poured out of the bridge to the side of them. All had swords, axes, and other such weapons drawn.

Somewhere far off she heard a wolf howling. Arya looked behind them to see the tents and food stalls burning. Collapsed as men fought, all the northern banners and arms she knew fell at the hands of riverland banners.

Arrows whistled overhead as the sounds of bodies splashed in the muck. It was a battle. Sandor had made his way around to the horse pulling the wagon and cut it’s reins. 

He picked up a banner from a Frey tent and took it in hand before grabbing her around the waste and climbing on the back of the now freed horse.

Then she heard it. The song of dread. The Rains of Castamere. Somehow the Hound had gotten a helmet onto his head as they rode past the other Frey riders. 

Arya tucked her head down as they rode through the Twins. They did not stop for one second. “My brother…”

“Dead, they slaughter his men. They won’t keep him alive.” Sandor spoke gruffly. “We go north...they say Winterfell still is held by Stark men. Thank and pray to whatever gods you believe in, we just might make it out alive.”

As they rode out through the other side of the Twins, Arya turned to look behind her. Driven out on a horse was a man with no head, instead it was replaced by a wolf that she had known all too well, but grown.

It was Grey Wind...and if that was the case...then it meant that it was her brother beneath. She pressed her face into whatever she could and wept.

She held no like for the Hound, but she held onto him then harder than she held onto anybody in her life. For once again there was one less Stark in the world, just like her father.

As they rode Sandor made camp. Arya did not remember falling asleep. Only waking up the next morning and riding once more. Some mornings Arya did not want to wake at all as they rode further north.

The only thing she had left were dreams. Dreams of a pack of wolves with her at the head. She was stronger there. Faster and bigger as well. She could outrun horses and outfight lions. She was never hungry for long.

However the Hound forced her to wake. To ride further and further. She would get home to Winterfell and she would never take her brother for granted.

She would see Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik and everyone else. She might even see the woman with rainbow hair that was waiting there for them.

They rode every day, never sleeping twice in the same place. Whole days passed when neither of them said anything. One of the nights she was back with her wolves. 

She thought of her mother and her scent. Then Arya could physically smell her. The smell was lost among the dead and rot. 

She made her way to the river's edge and breathed deep. Catching the scent once more. She passed dead men piled in the river their throats slit and bodies stabbed.

She ran through the shallows as her pack ate around her. The crows and people alike. Then she saw her. Face down in the mud blood joining the river from her throat.

She dragged her then onto the land rolling her over to see. Her eyes were not open but closed and at peace. At least there was that. Arya knew then that there was nothing for her at the Twins.

When morning came she woke herself instead of the Hound coming to wake her. “My mother is dead. I know it, I saw her in a dream. Dead just like my brother and father.”

The Hound looked at her a long time, then nodded. They rode as the wind became colder and the white of snow rested on the ground.

When she saw her home she nearly cried. Only her tears didn’t seem to come out. She wondered how that could be. Winterfell didn’t look as active as it once did.

Though it was probably due to the fact that Robb had...she tried not to think about it. The Hound rode to the gate as she heard a voice yell out above them.

“Single rider approaching the gate!” It was a man’s voice. A voice of the north. There was a long pause. They could hear what little movement and sound there was inside the castle stop.

Then another louder voice spoke, a woman's voice. One Arya had never heard before. “A single horse? I wonder who it could be, ask what they want!”

“What do you want!?” The man yelled down at them.

“We want inside! I have Arya Stark with me!” The Hound yelled in his gruff voice. There were sounds of gasps inside.

“Send for Maester Luwin!” The woman yelled from inside the castle. “We’re sending someone out to see if your claim is true!”

The gates of Winterfell opened and Arya felt her heart beat warm and new at the sight of the old Maester in his tattered robes. The Hound dismounted and helped her off the horse.

Maester Luwin approached cautiously before she knew he caught sight of her. “Arya! You’re back! ” He looked confused. “You! You’re Sandor Clegane!” Maester Luwin looked shocked.

“I am. Now will you let us in? Or do you not want the girl?” The Hound mocked.

“Right...it is as they claim. Arya Stark has been returned to us!” Luwin cried out back into the castle. “Come along.” Luwin started making his way inside.

Sandor pulled the horse behind them. Arya found herself running into the courtyard she grew up in. There in the center of it was a woman with purple hair with her younger brother standing next to her and Shaggydog sitting next to him.

“Welcome home, Lady Arya!” Ser Rodrik approached them with a smile on his face.

Arya felt a smile start to form on her face before she once again caught sight of Shaggydog. She needed to speak. “Robb and mother are dead! Killed by the Freys!”

There was a sad look that made up the faces of Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, and the woman. Rickon’s expression didn’t seem to change.

“Who is she?” Rickon asked. Arya felt pain stab through her.

“That’s your sister, little lord.” The woman spoke.

“But...that means mother is…” Rickon suddenly broke down.

“I’ll take care of him…” Maester Luwin stepped forward, taking the boy away.

“I’m sorry…” Arya spoke to the wind.

“You didn’t know, but it is not new news.” The woman sighed. “We’ve received a raven from the Boltons. Roose claims to be the new Warden until Rickon can grow into the position, or until Bran returns.”

“Where is Bran?” Arya asked.

“...North of the wall would be my closest guess.” The woman and Ser Rodrik exchanged glances.

“But why?” Arya felt compelled to ask.

“Because it called to him, he left us in charge until he could come back or until Robb could come back.” The woman told her.

“Who are you?” Arya asked.

“My name is Osha.” She smiled at Arya.

“As...nice as this is, I’d like a reward for bringing the girl back...mostly unharmed.” The Hound broke the peace.

“Yes, you did. Would you like gold?” The woman looked up at the slightly taller man.

“Yes, I think I would.”

“Then you will have it, I have a request of my own. Men are something we lack as of recent. We’d ask that you join Winterfell’s guard and help train with our Master of Arms Ser Rodrik.” The woman gestured to the man.

“Why the fuck not.” Sandor moved to the Master at arms and they shook hands.

“You can have the room you had before.” Ser Rodrik nodded. The Hound said nothing before wandering off.

“You must arrest and kill him!” Arya demanded.

“As much as you may want that, we do need men. And someone willing to work should not be thrown away.” Osha shook her head. “You are now the Lady of the Castle. Because you are older that Rickon you hold power here, but as one of your three advisors do not make such a dumb mistake out of whatever feelings you may have now.”

“I am no Lady.” Arya grimaced.

“Call yourself whatever you want. It changes nothing. You are older than Bran when he was heading Winterfell. So the same will be expected of you. Luwin, Rodrik, and I will help. Now we have news that you need to hear.”

News they did have. The Imp was married to Sansa. Then at his own wedding to Margaery Tyrell, Joffrey was killed. Tyrion was accused and arrested for the crime.

“They also claimed to still have you in King’s Landing. A lie proven false by your arrival. We will keep the lie as it is. For our benefit.” Osha smirked.

They had news for Sandor as well. Harrenhal was taken by his brother for Tywin. The Lannisters were still besieging Riverrun and that the Reach had taken Maidenpool.

The first thing Arya did was find Mikken to craft her a new needle. Her sword haven been taken by Polliver, of the Mountain’s men. 

Given her new size the sword was better matched to her. Luwin taught her things she’d need to know, in order to run Winterfell. 

Ser Rodrik attempted to continue her lessons as she explained them to her Master at Arms. With him adding a few more drills she could use with other weapons.

She had kept away from the Hound. He did what was asked of him helping train men in fighting. But she stayed far from him. She learned of Theon in the dungeons and asked if she should have him executed.

Rodrik was for the death. Luwin played the middle. While Osha explained how he might be important in the near future. Arya then remembered the prediction of Balon’s death and chose not to kill Theon.

They sent out ravens to all the truly loyal northermen about Lady Arya being returned to Winterfell, and about how she had rode through the Twins to witness the betrayal of the Boltons, Karsaks, and Freys. They wrote to no one else.

Ser Rodrik claimed that as long as the Greyjoy’s held Moat Cailin. The Boltons could do nothing against Winterfell. They wouldn't waste what little men they had reclaiming it. 

Forcing the Boltons to do the job, as the competitor Warden of the North. After that depending on the outcome there would be a war between them.

Then there was news from the Wall. Stannis had sent ravens to them demanding they bend the knee to the true king. There was a debate on how they should respond.

The Boltons would be enemies of Stannis. Having sided with the Lannisters. However he also had lost many men attacking King’s Landing.

When he was done with his business in the north, maybe they could use his troops to add to their numbers. It was not like Robb was against Stannis, he was who her father had picked.

They would not tell Stannis of Arya, instead they would allow Rickon to be the name they would bend the knee with. They sent their raven back.

Her three advisors hoped that the rest of the north would send troops to them too, in order to increase their numbers in that time. For that battle to come.

More ravens had come and gone. Some news that didn’t affect them, some that did. With Joffrey’s death, they placed the crown on his younger brother. 

Where, he was soon after engaged to marry Margaery Tyrell. Just like his brother before him.News then came of Petyr Baelish’s marriage to her aunt at the Eyrie. 

She didn’t know what to make of the match, but she noticed the face Osha made at the news. Not too long later they had received word of Lysa Arryn’s death.

Osha had japed. “Well that didn’t last long…” Only she seemed to find it funny. Arya didn’t know her aunt enough to care.

After training daily in the courtyard for weeks it was the Hound that approached her first. He complained and japed the entire time until it became too much for her.

It had led to a spar watched over by Ser Rodrik. The fight was disgustingly one sided. With the Hound simply bowling over her. 

It was him that reached his hand out to grab...a gesture she rejected. She got to her feet before going inside for Maester Luwin to tell her more information she hated to learn.

Jon:

He should have stayed in that cave with Ygritte. “Mance Rayder wants to parley with us.” Slynt explained.

“So we are sending you, Lord Snow.” Ser Alliser wore a grin on his face.

“Why me?” Jon asked, already knowing why.

“Mance Rayder knows you. He will be more inclined to trust you.” said Thorne.

“He’ll kill me, if I speak for the Night’s Watch.” Jon told them. “But, if you want me to go, I will.”

“Good, when you get there you will kill him. There will be no terms.” Ser Alliser told him.

So here he was walking to his presumed death. He passed a raven who cawed the word. “Snow.” Repeatedly at him then flew away.

A lone rider was sent out to greet him. “Jon Snow the crow. Come back again I see!” Tormund laughed. “Back to a black cloak...Mance won’t like that. If you swapped sides again…” He didn’t finish his thought.

“They've sent me to treat with the King beyond the Wall.” Jon told him.

“Well Mance wants to talk...not with you, say.”

“Well they’ve sent me.”

“Aye. What happened with that leg?”

“One of Ygritte's arrows, I think.” Jon replied.

“One day she's kissing you, the next filling you with arrows.”

“She’s dead.” Jon sighed.

Tormund gave a sad shake of the head. “A waste. Was it you that killed her?”

“One of my brothers.”

“Bloody Crows.” Soon they were among the tents. As they reminisced. There were men and women and animals everywhere. Most ignored him, others stared.

Mance Rayder's white fur tent was on a hill with him waiting just outside. “You must be very brave or stupid to come to us wearing a black cloak.” He spat.

“What else would a man of the Night's Watch wear?” Jon sighed.

“Kill him. Send him back up to them, and ask for someone else. I’ll keep his head.” urged Harma.

“Pull in your claws, all of ya.” Tormund jumped down off his horse. “He’s here to speak and to hear.”

“Come inside.” Mance spoke to Jon. “The rest of you, wait here.”

It was warm inside as Jon followed the king beyond the wall. “I liked you well enough...for a bastard, but I never trusted you.” Mance spoke. “But you know what we are facing.”

“The Others.” Jon answered.

“They are getting stronger and closer to the Wall. They kill you then bring you back to fight your own people. None have been able to stand against them. Including me. So I’ve come. Go back and tell them to open their gate and let us pass.”

“If we let your people pass, can you make them keep the king's peace and obey the laws?” Jon found himself asking.

“And who’s laws would those be? We will not kneel.” Mance turned grim.

A horn sounded outside. Something was coming from the east. “The Others?” Jon asked.

“Not during the day.” Mance stepped outside.

“Men on horses are coming.” Someone spoke.

“They attack while we talk?” Mance asked him.

“They did not tell me that is what they planned.” Jon informed him. Janos lacked the men to attack. It couldn't be the Watch.

“Eastwatch men. Sailors on horses.” The same person from before spoke. “We’re surrounded. Coming from all sides.”

More and more men were pouring from the trees. Hundreds of men. He glimpsed a seahorse, a field of birds, a ring of flowers. All sigils. Then banners of yellow.“Stannis!” He heard the cry of who was coming.

Stannis had offered to legitimize him. In the aftermath of it all. He offered to name him Lord of Winterfell. Jon didn’t know if he should accept.

However he put those thoughts aside. Stannis had done something unheard of. He would let the wildlings through the Wall. Letting them settle in the Gift.

There was a catch, like everything good it seemed. They would need to kneel. They would cast aside the Old Gods and accept the Lord of the Light as their new God.

In order for all of these plans to work he needed Jon to become Lord of Winterfell. Marry Val, and once he returned to Winterfell burn the godswood. 

An act that would mean he had accepted the Lord of the Light as his own. Proving his renouncement of the Old Gods and their ways. 

Stannis told him that Tywin had named Roose Bolton the Warden of the North. A reward for betraying Robb. Just as he had made Walder Frey Lord of Riverrun.

He told him about the Ironborn taking pockets of the north. Including Moat Cailin. How Winterfell had nearly been taken by Theon Greyjoy. Another that betrayed Robb.

But was held off, leaving Brandon Stark missing and only Rickon Stark at Winterfell. If he accepted Stannis’ offer would he be no better than Lady Catelyn always thought of him. Would he take what was now rightfully Rickon’s.

It would also mean giving up his oath to the Night’s Watch. What would his father have thought of him. To renounce his own words. He needed time. So that’s what he asked for.

Later Mormont's raven flies to his shoulder as the votes are counted to select the new Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. Jon wins and becomes the 998th Lord Commander.

He had gotten out of becoming a Lord of Winterfell and stayed true to his oaths. Now he just needed to speak to a King about the news.

Samwell:

Stannis Baratheon had claimed the King's Tower for his own. Ravens had flown back and forth from Castle Black. Each asking for the lords of the north to declare for Stannis Baratheon.

Sam had sent out most of them himself. There had been two replies he could count, one from Karhold. The other Winterfell.

He had read the letter to Stannis himself when asked. It had said they knew him to be the one true king. However they did not have men for him and Rickon Stark was too young to be a true lord.

It meant they had knelt to him in word only and could do no more. The silence from the rest of the lords was quite loud. 

Even if Stannis could get as many northern lords behind him as possible not including the ones who already declared for the King Tommen. 

Sam didn’t see how he would take on the combined powers of Casterly Rock, Highgarden, and the Twins. Let alone the war that would come in the north.

However if not even the north would have him...Stannis was already doomed. As the Night’s Watch they couldn't pick a side. They needed the help from whoever could be sent to them against the Others.

Then there were the wildlings. Stannis had his plan to allow them to join his ranks. However Sam heard from the new Lord Commander Jon Snow, that he would not kneel.

Mance would probably be the next to die. Val was part of Stannis’ plan, he wanted to let the wildlings through to settle the Gift until it was time for battle.

Then there came his role from Jon. He was being sent to Oldtown and forge a chain. Sam would replace Aemon. So that the older Maester could avoid being burned by Melisandre’s fire.

Gilly would be sent along with them, they would travel to Eastwatch soon. It was he that had rigged the voting to make Jon Lord Commander...and now he was being sent away. He could not tell if it was a punishment or reward.

Jon:

They had thousands of wildlings penned up at the Wall. All captives of Stannis Baratheon. With the fire he had to take up the quarters of Donal Noye behind the armory.

He took the journey to meet with the King in the aptly named tower of his own. The king wore lambswool breeches and a quilted doublet, and yet for such snug clothes he looked stiff as if in armor.

Jon took a knee and looked up at the King. He watched as Stannis waved the paper in his hand. “Rise...tell me, who is Lyanna Mormont?” The King asked him.

“One of Lady Maege's daughters. The youngest, named after my father's sister.”

“How old is this wretched girl child?” Stannis growled.

“Ten, or close to it. Did she offend you, your Grace?”

Stannis read the paper. “Bear Island knows no king, we did know King Robb Stark. But he is dead. The only ones we serve are the ones of the north named Stark. We serve Lord Rickon Stark of Winterfell. They have asked for our men to protect their walls so we have gone. Bear Island does not boast the size of other northern lords, but we are loyal. If we march anywhere it is at the command of the Lord of Winterfell.”

Jon had to keep his face in check. Stannis had wanted him to be Lord of Winterfell...now it fell to Rickon.

“A girl of ten...it is good that Winterfell and Karhold are with me then. Since I have Winterfell it means I have Bear Island...even if they do not see it as such. Tell me, would your youngest brother be of marrying age? Would those in Winterfell marry him off to this child of ten?”

“I cannot say, your Grace.”

“Two score ravens were sent out. Yet we either get silence or in this case ridicule from your father's bannermen. Winterfell says they know their duty, yet they cannot help me in any way. Simple word service is all they can offer.”

“Do you blame them if they hang back?” Jon found himself asking. “The last King they rode off with died. Now there is trouble in the north as the Boltons have shown their hand. With others joining them. What they want is what they know. Not someone who might die soon after they swear fealty again so soon.”

The conversation moved on from there as Stannnis asked about Lord Wyman Manderly. The richest of his father’s bannermen. Then they came back around to the wildlings.

“What about Val? If she cannot marry one Lord of Winterfell would she marry your brother?” Lady Melisandre asked him.

“He is too young for that match to be accepted. The north would not support the idea.” Jon thought that both would regret the pairing. “The only man that would bind wildlings to your cause is Mance Rayder.”

“Mance Rayder's life is forfeit by every law of the Seven Kingdoms.” Stannis spoke simply. “He knows much more of our true enemy, and he is cunning. But he will die.”

“You could make good use of Mance.” Jon almost pleaded but held back his words.

“I mean to. I'll burn him.” Stannis waved his hand. “Do not forget I also have his son. They will follow him once their King dies.”

“Kingship is not inherited beyond the Wall.” Jon explained.

“Good, one less king to worry about when Mance is dead.”

Jon needed to protect the child. He had a plan. He had already told Sam. If they were to burn Mance. Why wouldn't they have a child for whatever power they got from it.

When he was finally kicked out Lady Melisandre chose to escort him. “His Grace is growing fond of you.” She spoke to him while they walked.

“I can tell. He only threatened to behead me twice.” Jon made a small jape. Melisandre laughed.

“I have seen you in my fires, Jon Snow.” She told him.

“You want to burn me?” He could feel the warmth coming off of her.

“You mistake my meaning. Soon enough you may have a grave need of me. You have so many enemies. Shall I tell you their names?”

“I know their names.”

“So you say, but it’s not those that yell at your face you should fear. But those that sharpen their knives for your back.”

He next told Gilly of the plan he shared with Sam. She would join him in Eastwatch. She would leave behind her own child and take Mance’s son with her.

Sam and Gilly stood nearby. He could not be sure if it was her own son or Mance’s like he told her to bring. 

Maester Aemon joined them before he left, he told him a few words. “Knowledge is a weapon. Arm yourself well before you ride to battle.”

Sam lingered a moment. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”

“Have a safe voyage. Take care of Gilly, Aemon, and the child.” Jon remembered the day he bid farewell to his brother Robb. He didn’t know then it would be the last time he saw him.

Jon watched as they all went away until they were just a speck in the distance. Then he turned back around and got back to work. It was his watch. 

Later today he will behead Janos Slynt with Longclaw. Then they would prepare the pyre for Mance to be burned.

Theon:

It was strange to him, to not realize how much time had actually passed. He knew little of the outside world and what it’s goings on were.

Arya Stark had returned to Winterfell, he knew that much from her single visit she paid him in his cell. She gave him one look over and left him there.

He expected to die not too long later but it did not come. Instead he was kept there, fed and watered daily. His muscles had slowly melted away. 

The only one who spoke with him was the servant who brought him food. He didn’t say much, but Theon talked at him when he came by. He did not know when it was, but the witch had visited him again one day.

“Time to go.” She spoke.

“Are you going to kill me?” Theon asked, tired of waiting.

“No, your sister is once again asking for a trade. Your father is dead, by the way.” She told him without a hint of remorse. He felt himself numbly move forward out of the courtyard.

All the people of Winterfell stared at him as he walked. Arya stared down at him from next to Ser Rodrik. The same look on both their faces. 

Winterfell looked better than it did when he had almost taken it. It’s walls were once again filled with men and women. Men were training in the courtyard and he thought he saw the Hound knock a man off his feet.

He felt he was seeing things, as the Hound belonged to the Lannisters. There was no way a man like him would be welcomed here in the north. 

Then again what did it say, when he was still alive despite what he did. On the other side of the opened gates were Yara and many Ironborn men. 

She had a stern look on her face that gave away nothing from looking at him. “Here he is, I expect your men to be gone once the battle is over.” The Witch spoke to his sister.

“Either they die, or they leave on their own. Theon is worth more than some northern moat. Our father wanted revenge, now he’s dead. We have no reason to keep it.” Yara shrugged as if it was as simple as that.

“Good luck with...whatever it is you do in those islands.” The Witch nodded at his sister.

“I’ll have more than luck.” Yara turned around and walked away. Theon just stood there unsure of himself. An Ironborn man touched his back and pushed him forward after his sister.

When he asked about what the trade was she explained the deal. Her men and Victarion would hold Moat Cailin while they went to the kingsmoot. 

The forces the north had rebuilt would join them until the Bolton’s attacked. Where they would once again return to the islands. She had scrounged up a deal.

Their people would keep Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore in return for the release of Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square and Moat Cailin.

Brienne:

“I will find the girl and keep her safe." Brienne had promised Ser Jaime, back at King's Landing. "For her lady mother's sake and for yours.”

If only it were as easy as that. Sansa Stark had vanished, and if anyone had seen her since they were not talking. Brienne was sure she left the city.

Jaime had given her his valyrian steel sword for her quest. Forged from Eddard Stark’s sword Ice. She had named the sword Oathkeeper after Jaime asked for its name.

He had also presented her with armor for the task to wear, even getting her measurements right for the fit.

Then as if giving good with bad, he handed her a squire Podrick Payne. For now she ignored him and planned on where to go first. Where would I go? She asked herself.

She would go to Tarth, where her father was. Sansa's father had been beheaded...so that was out. Her lady mother was dead too, murdered at the Twins...Winterfell, maybe?

However it was not possible she was there yet. Unless she had stowed away on some ship but the harbor at King's Landing was still in ruins. 

There wasn’t a way Brienne could think Sansa made it past the Twins, unless she had help in doing so. The kingsroad was not safe and the Ironborn held Moat Cailin.

She also had asked the docks. There was no ship that left when Joffrey died. After finding no leads, she found herself wondering if Jaime had given her this task as some cruel jape.

It was of no matter. She had promised Lady Catelyn that she would bring back her daughters, and no promise was as solemn as one sworn to the dead.

Jaime thought Arya was dead. They had sent false news to Winterfell, that they still had her. The only ones from the North to ally themselves with the Lannisters were the Boltons, Ryswells, Dustins, and Karsaks.

The Red Wedding as they had gotten to calling it, had split the north. Which was already in shambles from the Ironborn attacks. For now she would head north.

Her half brother was at the Wall too and her aunt the Eyrie. All locations pointed north from King’s Landing. As they rode Podrick unable to truly ride a horse well she warned him.

“Stay quiet, Podrick. There may still be outlaws in these woods.” She watched as he messily rode his horse much worse than she ever could.

“I’ve got an axe, my lady. I can fight.” He sounded determined, at least that was something. Brienne did not doubt the boy's courage, only his training.

A squire he might have been in name at least, but the men he'd squired for had served him poorly for their trip. He was from a lesser branch of House Payne.

His father had spent his life squiring for richer cousins and had Podrick before going off to die in the Greyjoy Rebellion. His mother had abandoned him with one of those cousins when he was four. Podrick did not remember what she looked like.

Ser Cedric Payne acted as close as he would get to a father. Though Cedric had treated Podrick more like a servant than a son. Ser Cedric had been killed in the riverlands whilst fighting for Lord Tywin.

Ser Kevan Lannister took charge of him, and then sent the boy to squire for Tyrion. None had taught him to fight. She attempted to release him from his oath...he did not take her up on her offer.

Brienne cut two wooden swords out of branches to test Podrick’s skill. He had quick hands. He was attentive but also underfed and skinny. Nowhere near strong enough for what she would want out of him.

When she had come back from gathering the branches for both fire and to test his skill he revealed himself unable to cook. Another mark against.

“You survived the Battle of the Blackwater?” Brienne asked him.

“I told you I had.” He insisted.

“Not with how you swing a stick.” Brienne protested.

“I didn’t swing a stick then, I even killed a man.” Podrick seemed lost in memory.

“Really? Who was it, if you know?” Brienne had seen that look on a few faces.

“He was a Kingsgaurd.” He spoke looking up at her.

“Excuse me?” That couldn't be right…

“He tried to kill Lord Tyrion during the battle.” Podrick quickly explained.

“How...if he was a Kingsgaurd, how could you have killed him?”

“I pushed him into the water...his armor caused him to drown…”

“Luck then...you may call yourself my squire, but I've seen boys half your age who could have beat you bloody. If you stay with me, you'll go to sleep with blisters on your hands and bruises on your arms. You'll be so stiff and sore.” She warned him.

“I can handle it! All of it Ser… I mean my lady.” Podrick had heart and she felt it.

“Fine, help me remove my armor then. I’ll need to train you, we’ll be making up for lost time now.” From then, north they trained. Podrick stayed true to his word and not complained once.

A new blister on his grew was one to show off to her. He was also good with horses. For one to both be a squire and not, it paired well with a knight who wanted to be a knight and was not.

She had chosen to sleep in an inn. As a treat to both herself and her loyal...squire. They would have better cooked food and more than the dirt to sleep in for a night.

When they had arrived it was already dark, and she could smell food being cooked. Their timing could not have been better. They paid their price and were served kidney pie.

Their server was a plump lad with straw hair with big eyes. When he gave them their food Brienne stopped him from going. “We’re looking for someone.”

“Someone in particular?” He asked.

“A girl. A fair maid of three-and-ten, she is tall with red hair. Her name is Sansa Stark, but there is no guarantee she still uses her name.”

“Stark…?” He seemed worried. “I’ve seen no one like that.”

No one had so far, but she had to keep asking. “Have you heard anything about a woman like that? Maybe in the Vale? Her aunt is Lady of the Vale.”

“I heard that the Lady of the Vale was dead…” He shook his head. “If she knows that, she wouldn't go there…not that I’d know how a Stark traitor thinks.” With that he tried to walk off.

Lysa Tully is dead… “Are you sure you know nothing? I just want to bring the daughters of the Starks home.”

“...sorry...I don’t know anything.” He shook his head before serving other tables. One less place to go she supposed. Nother still they’d need to go. 

Sansa had a lead on them, maybe she really did make it back to Winterfell...would anyone say if she had arrived? They wouldn't want to speak to King’s Landing for all they had done to the northmen.

They spent the night in the inn, and in the morning Podrick fixed her horse so it was ready to be ridden and helped her put on her armor. When she mounted her horse she called to him. “Come, Podrick.”

“Where is it we’re going?” He asked.

“The Twins I suppose...we’ll see if we can pass with permission from King’s Landing.” She sighed.

“M’lady!” She heard a voice behind them. When she turned to look it was the boy from before that had served them the pie. “I need a word.”

“Yes? What is it? Do you know something now?” She nearly demanded. This could be their first chance at knowing where Sansa could be.

“I don’t know any Sansa Stark…” Hope had died as she took a defeated breath. “But I know her sister, Arya.”

“You...you’re sure of this? Arya Stark is presumed dead.”

“Could be now, wasn’t when I last saw her.”

“And where exactly is it, you last saw her?”

“Heading north, to the Night’s Watch. Dressed as a boy, clever of her I think. Like you Ser, only...no armor. Told us to call her Arry.”

“You’ve spent a good amount of time with her then?”

“Yeah, while we were prisoners of the Lannisters. We all escaped. The Brotherhood without banners took us all. Sold me to this inn here. They were going to her mother at Riverrun along with another one...the Hound they called him had terrible burns on his face. Not friendly.”

“Do we go looking for Arya now Ser? I mean, my lady?” Podrick stuttered.

“Well Lord Frey is the new Lord of Riverrun. So we go to the Twins as planned. Past that...Winterfell first, then the Wall.”

Brienne was not made to tell lies. Yet it was her that came up with the plan to hide herself simply as a knight to get through the Twins. Podrick would speak for her, as not to give away her voice and gender.

They had arrived when it was still day. Podrick had called out into the sky asking for passage through the Twins. A small Frey greeted them asking their business.

“We are on a quest north given to us by Ser Jaime Lannister. He trusted us with the task and we cannot say what it is.” Podrick explained.

They Frey returned to the castle where he most likely relayed the information. The Frey came back not too long later. “Lord Frey asks if the sword at your side is made of Valyrian steel.”

It was a wonder Lord Frey was able to spot it. He must have known his valuables. “It is.” Podrick answered.

“Lord Frey wants it.” The boy informed them.

“It was given to Ser Tarth for his quest, by Jaime Lannister. We cannot part with it.”

“I’ll tell Lord Frey…” The boy let it hang in the air like a threat before heading back inside. They would not have the sword Ser Jaime gave to her.

The runt of a boy once more came back a bit out of breath this time. “He asks that you leave your shield instead, as proof while they send a raven to confirm your story. You will get it back on your journey back through the Twins.”

The small Frey reached up and Brienne gave her shield to the grabbing boy with skinny fingers. She wondered if he would do well as a thief...she didn’t mean to think ill of the boy, but she did. After all she had heard of the Freys, including breaking guest right.

The gods would judge them, she wondered how many celebrated the killing of a guest. She would be glad if she never saw the Twins again. 

They could keep her shield and ransom as long as she got past the castle. The new Lord of Riverrun did not come out to greet them. Instead they were simply allowed through. Lord Frey, it seemed, had gotten cocky with his new title. 

Brienne would not like to meet him anyway. Luck it seemed was on their side. They passed through the Twins and did not look back.

“You did very well Podrick, I’m sorry to have asked you to lie for us.” She apologized.

“I did as any squire would for his knight.” He nodded and from there they rode north to Winterfell. Hoping beyond hope that good news awaited them there.

It would be the first time Brienne saw Winterfell. The same for Podrick she assumed. It looked like a great castle. It was one that had housed the many honorable Starks.

They were spotted first. “Two riders approach! A knight and his squire by the looks of things.” A man on top of the gate yelled.

“Hardly anything is exactly what it looks like, two riders is it? Next it will be three. Ask what they want!” A woman shouted back on the other side after some pause.

“Who are you and why do you approach Winterfell?” The man asked down at them.

“I am Brienne of Tarth, and this is Podrick Payne!” Brienne shouted up at him, guessing the woman inside would hear her too. “We are here to search for Sansa and Arya Stark!”

“Payne? Tarth? What are you doing in the north…” The man spoke as if to himself. His face was untrusting. “It’s a woman! Here for-” The man was interrupted.

“Yes, I heard. Now lower the gates!” She yelled.

“But, Osha!” An older man spoke from inside the castle.

“I’m tired of screaming over walls. If the two of them can kill all of us after coming through, we deserve to die. Now let them through!” Osha, Brienne supposed yelled.

The gate to Wintefell opened to them. On the other side of the gate stood a woman who stood about as tall as her. She had purple hair with a pale heart shaped face and dark twinkling eyes. She seemed to be grinning.

Next to her stood a stout man with a sword on his hip and white hair. He had no smile on his face. Unlike the woman who stood head and shoulders above him.

“Aren’t you a tall one.” The woman who spoke with the same voice that she guessed was Osha. Her tone seemed to be that of a jape, as if they were sharing the same story.

Freakish was the word she had heard all her life about her size. She was broad in the shoulder and broader in the hips. Her legs were long, her arms thick. 

Her chest was more muscle than bosom. Her hands were big, her feet enormous. Her face was freckled. She was called ugly, with a face like a horses and teeth that didn’t help the comparison. She did not need to be reminded of any of that.

She did not share the humor with the woman about her size. It had been used against her too many times to find it funny. “I am only here to see if Sansa Stark or Arya Stark have come here.”

“Wouldn't Sansa Stark be in King’s Landing along with Arya?” The older man to Osha’s left spoke.

“The Arya in King’s Landing is a fraud, just someone made to take her place.” Brienne told them the truth. They looked at one another nodding.

“Yes, we know that to be true. Which means you are telling at least some truths.” The man spoke again. “You said you were Brienne of Tarth? The same one they said killed Renly Baratheon?”

“That is a lie! I did him no harm! Lady Catelyn was there with me. She saw it too, a shadow that looked like Stannis Baratheon killed him. I know it sound hard to believe, but-”

“Oh, I find it quite easy to believe. If there is one thing I know, it is magic.” Osha spoke looking her in the eye. “It is how we kept the castle from being taken by Ironborn.”

“Then you believe me.” Brienne was relieved. “Then you must believe what I say next is the truth. I swore to Lady Catelyn that I would do all I could to protect her daughters. She made Ser Jaime Lannister swear the same when she freed him back to King’s Landing. Only Sansa left King’s Landing and now we search for her to protect her.”

“Jaime Lannister!?” The man next to Osha reached for his blade.

“Easy, Ser Rodrik. She has spoken the truth so far, if it was Lady Catelyn that freed him and sent her out then we can only trust her choice. You have been truthful to us, so we will tell you the truth. Arya Stark has been returned to us by Sandor Clegane.” Osha told her.

“Then Lady Arya is safe?” Brienne felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. At least one of Lady Catelyn's daughters was safe. “What of Lady Sansa?”

“She is...lost to us. You say she is missing from King’s Landing?” Ser Rodrick asked. “Then she is as lost as Arya once was.”

So it was not yet over. She would accept what good news she could. There was hope yet to save them both. “May I see her?” Brienne asked.

“She should be training not too much farther in.” Osha nodded letting her pass. “I’ll have your...squire? Stable your horses.”

“I’m not a knight.” Brienne informed her.

“Lady Arya is not a lady, I’m not a wildling helping run Winterfell, and Cersei’s children are not bastards born of incest.” Osha shrugged. 

So she was a wildling...she had come south of the Wall and ended up...seemingly in charge of a castle. Brienne walked past the two of them and spotted a girl swinging a thin blade around herself.

“Hello…” She greeted the girl.

“Hello.” The girl greated back after spinning to look at her. “Are you a knight?”

“...No…”

“Do you know how to use a sword?” She asked.

“I do.”

“Does it have a name? This one is called Needle. It was named after a sewing needle...which I am terrible at.”

“Good name. This is Oathkeeper, I suppose it’s named after an oath I made to Lady Stark about keeping her daughters safe...but I suppose half of the work seems to have been done for me.”

“You knew my mother?” Arya asked.

“For a short while. I served as a Kingsgaurd for a short while, in Renly’s camp...that’s where we met, and I made my oath.”

“...who is it that taught you to fight with a sword?” Arya asked.

“My father did.”

“My father didn’t want me to learn how to use a sword...but then he got me a trainer...before he died. It might have been what kept me alive after all this time.”

“I am glad for it. Mine was much the same, but he relented when I wouldn't stop getting into fights. Told me that if I was going to, he wanted me to win.”

“What is your name?” Arya asked her.

“Brienne of Tarth.”

“Sorry to break up this little gathering, but the girl needs to practice.” A man walked up from behind, with a half burned face.

“You must be Sandor Clegane.” Brienne nodded her head at the man. “You’ve done well to bring Arya Stark here.”

“What gave me away? My bloody good looks? Should I tell you what gives you away? That sword of yours. I was the Lannisters' dog ‘till they kicked me one too many times. I know a Lannister gold when I see it. They let you walk right in did they?”

“I told them the truth.”

“An honorable sort then? Lots called the north honorable until Lannister gold was passed around. Now there is a war brewing. Should we just accept you at your word?” He moved forward hand on his sword.

“Oh, is it a fight?” Brienne turned around to see Osha approaching. “The Woman Knight and the Hound. A fight for the ages, just for all of Winterfell. I guess since I’m the one that’s going to be fixing you both up I’ll stop it when it’s over. You will do no more at my call...do you hear me?”

“Aye, whatever you say. You’re the one paying me.” The Hound spoke gruffly.

Brienne felt this was a test of somesort. She didn’t plan on failing. “Very well.” She put her hand on her own sword drawing it. The Hound did the same with his own.

They clashed their swords together once and what happened next couldn't be described as a pretty fight. They wailed on one another. 

The Hound did all he could to keep her off but her blade was of a stronger make. It took five blows before it gave out. Splitting in half. 

From there she expected the fight to be called but he used his fists next breaking her hold on Oathkeeper. It was no longer a thing of honor. 

She felt herself back in the pit trying to defeat Ser Loras and become a Rainbow Guard. Only the hound she felt put up much more of a fight. Giving as good as he got.

At one point she used her armored fist to punch him where he was weakest. He dropped to his knees before tripping her up with what he had left.

When she tried to crawl on top of him she found herself unable to move. She was lifted into the air as if she weighed nothing. Then looked over and found the Hound in the same position as her.

“I think we’ll call the match there, hm? Who do you think won, Arya?” Osha asked, keeping a stick pointed at both of them. Was this magic keeping them aloft?”

“I think that anyone up against them loses...how much can we pay you to stay?” Arya asked her.

“I swore an oath!” Brienne would take nothing.

“Fuck, she really is an honerable fool!” The Hound yelled. “Alright you can let me down, bitch.”

“That’s me, the witch bitch.” Osha laughed and Sandor dropped to his knees once again able to move. “Fix, Brienne of fucking Tarth first. I can wait my turn.” With that he left the yard.

“So, will you stay?” Arya asked.

“Your sister may still be out there…” Brienne was unsure.

“With you and the Hound here...maybe I can do just a bit more…” Osha seemed thoughtful. “Before you agree to anything, I will make some things clear. We have not revealed we have Arya here. And we’ve sent a raven out declaring for Stannis. He might have more troops than us, and he is at the Wall. We cannot afford to fight him.”

“As long as I can protect Arya...I will not complain.” Brienne swore. Still, he wasn’t a king she would serve without complaint.

“Add Rickon to that, while you’re here.” Osha told her.

“I will do it.”

“Good.” Brienne found herself falling and landed on her knees. “Welcome to Winterfell.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jon:

Mance’s hands were bound with a noose around his neck. He only wore a thin tunic, the cold biting at his exposed skin. Jon had tried to plead for the man but Mance wouldn't bend the knee and Stannis wanted him punished for breaking his oath.

It was on the Night’s Watch to punish Mance for breaking his oath. Not a King...but he could do nothing. Stannis had remained unmoved. Mance would die.

“Burning alive...it’s no way to go.” Mance had told him before this day had come. “But...I will not kneel.”

Then a voice broke out above them all. “Free folk!” Lady Melisandre yelled. “This is your king. The Lord of Light has seen his children in their peril and sent a champion to them, Azor Ahai reborn.” Stannis stood next to her unmoved as ever.

Mance was dragged to the wood meant for him and tied to it securely. Lady Melisandre shouted out once more. “Now watch, as your false king receives his fate. All of us must choose.”

Jon forced himself to watch on not daring to move a muscle. Terrible way to die. The words bounced in his head. Then she lit the pyre. The flames seemed to start slow.

Moving their way toward the center. Jon saw the fear on Mance’s face as clear as day in the light of the fire. He did his best to stand strong but any man would fear what would come.

Just when it was about to force the yell out of him, Jon grabbed a bow from one of his men and fired true. Striking Mance in the heart killing him instantaneously. 

His body still burned in the fire and reached high above them all. “And now his watch is done.” Jon spoke softly to himself. Stannis was scowling and Jon refused to meet his eyes.

“The Lord of Light made the sun and moon and stars to light our way, and gave us fire to keep the night at bay," Melisandre told the wildlings. "None can withstand his flames.”

That was when Stannis Baratheon drew Lightbringer. The sword glowed with fire and light. Men had to cover their eyes at it’s brightness. The power of a king’s blood.

“Westeros has one king!” spoke Stannis. “With this sword I defend my subjects. Bend the knee, and I promise you food, land, and justice. Kneel and live. Or go and die. Open the Gate!”

Sansa:

“You told Lord Royce that we were leaving for the Fingers.” Sansa didn’t understand. “He wouldn't betray us.”

“Maybe, but with your little reveal there are others in that castle that are not as honorable. It would only take one word for everything we’ve done to come apart.” Baelish warned.

“Then why do we ride with men if we trust none of them? Plan to have them killed?” Sansa asked.

“I pay them too well to kill them. They know that I know what would happen should they speak.”

“If not to the Fingers. Where is it we are going?” Sansa wanted a straight answer from the man. “A place where everyone can be trusted? Or a place where you can pay them enough to keep silent.”

“To a place that has kept silent about many things...it seems people go there and do not come out. Though it seems that others think it a haven. Only a select few are let in, and the Lannisters know nothing about it. We just have to pass a few places to get there.”

So they rode west. Stopping at inn’s along the way. It was one morning while they were breaking their fast that Sansa decided she would let Littlefinger know she knew something.

“How do you plan to be let into a place few people can get into? That’s what you said before.” Sasna wanted to know. “There were many ravens sent to you while in the Vale.”

“There were. It was quite simple really. I let a bit of truth slip out and the mockingbird became our bridge through. One of those stops I told you about will allow us passage in.” Petyr explained.

“A safe place from the Lannisters...are you sure they would take us?” Sansa asked.

“They would. I bring the Vale, and you…” He looked her over then and like the many times before her skin crawled. 

“That’s Moat Cailin…” Sansa observed. “Didn’t the Ironborn take it?”

“They did...and they still hold there. Waiting, alongside the northmen sent there from all over. It’s probably always looked shaby. The Ironborn siege did not improve it’s looks.” Littlefinger looked it over. “Have you been here before?”

“We passed through on our way to King’s Landing…” Sansa said no more. “Where exactly is it you are taking me?”

“Well I didn’t want to go through the Twins...it wouldn't do us well. I’m surprised you haven’t guessed. I’m taking you home to Winterfell. A straight shot from here.”

“People think of Winterfell as a safe haven? Did it not almost be taken over by Ironborn just like Moat Cailin?” Sasna asked.

“They tried. Yet they failed. Word it Boltons tried to take it afterward...they failed. Then little by little word started coming out. Now Moat Cailin has northmen and Ironborn working together holding it strong.”

“Is it the same in Winterfell?” Sansa asked.

“I am told this...partnership is temporary. Made from a trade, Theon Greyjoy failed but they kept him until they found a use for him. Balon died and now Ironborn fight for a single King. One of the potential made a deal...Winterfell made a bet on who it would be.”

“Then...Winterfell knows we are coming?” Sansa asked.

“They do, but I couldn't get any information from inside. The only thing I know is that you are Sansa Stark. Through you Winterfell would have a Stark older than six. You would become Lady of Winterfell.” Littlefinger explained. “I myself have the Vale.”

“Winterfell will need all the men it can get to defeat the northerners that have turned to the Lannisters. They’ve already treated the Ironborn, proving they will take men where they can get it.” Sansa realized.

“You are learning...once you get to Winterfell you will be the one in charge, but until then we need to get there safely.” Littlefinger looked out over the castle.

As they rode in they were stopped by an Ironborn. “What are the men of the Vale doing here?”

A northern man came running out of the castle. “We need to let them pass.” He informed the other man.

“Why?” He looked confused.

“Do they look like Bolton or Frey? Let them pass.”

Begrudgingly they were allowed into Moat Cailin proper. They passed by men and women working inside. With north men and Ironborn keeping watch.

“The fucking Vale.” One of the northmen spoke to the other standing next to him. “They sat safe in their fucking castle while our King was murderd.”

“We have to let them through...we got orders from Lady-” Sansa heard a scuffle. “I mean...Lord Rickon to let the man with the mockingbird through.”

“You don’t know who that is? That’s Littlefinger...he used to be the Master of Coin, married Lysa Arryn before she went and died.”

“Do we have the Vale then?”

“Dunno…” Sansa felt his voice trail off as they rode through the Moat. It seemed most of the north knew something. The forces there looked rough. 

From what she gathered from overheard conversations the main Bolton army kept testing them along with the Freys from the Twins. All attacks came from the south.

Which meant that those at the Dreadfort had been waiting. How many men did they have left in the south cut off from the north by Moat Cailin.

Petyr Baelish had kept her up to date on all the goings on of Westeros. She knew the basic alliances of the current north. 

That didn’t mean she trusted those who sided with Winterfell. Just that she knew who still declared against the Lannisters and those who kept silent.

When they were finally through the Moat they continued north. Sansa hoped that Winterfell would truly be the place where she could be free of it all. Putting the impending war in the north aside.

As they got closer she saw the home she grew up in with gates closed. It wasn’t a sight she was used to. It was if the home she had as a child was no longer hers.

Instead it was shut off to her. From the top of the wall she heard a voice call out. “Vale banners approach!”

“Well then open the gate!” A woman called back. It was a voice she didn’t know. Whoever she was, she seemed to let them in.

The gates opened up to them and they rode through the gate of Winterfell. Seemingly waiting for them was a woman taller than Sansa with purple hair. 

She had a spear in one hand and a carrot in the other. There were some bites missing from the carrot. Who was this woman?

“You’re Littlefinger then?” She asked. “Nice to finally see the face that’s been sending all those ravens.”

“You’re the one that’s written back?” Petyr asked.

“Who are you?” Sansa asked.

“My name is Osha, I’m from beyond the wall.” Osha then took an exaggerated bow before coming back up and taking a bite of a carrot.

“You’re a wildling…” Sansa pointed out.

“I am...and you’re Sansa Stark...welcome back home M’lady.”

“Are you really-” Littlefinger tried to speak but was cut off by Osha.

“I’m speaking to the Lady of the castle, you’ll wait your turn. Now, Lady Sansa. Were you raised with the knowledge of how to run a house…?” Osha asked her.

“I was.” Sansa confirmed.

“That’s a relief. There’s only so much I can do to help. Maester Luwin and Ser Rodrik have done their best but I do not know how to run a castle. I just take care of the...bigger picture things.”

“...what?” Sansa was confused.

“Right, you wouldn't know. Well before your brother Bran left...he put the three of us in charge of Winterfell and Rickon. Rickon is no Lord so it was left to the three of us. Then Arya came and Maester Luwin does his best…but she only learns when she’s willing to sit still.”

“Arya Stark is here?” Petyr seemed shocked. “Are you sure.”

“My sister…” Sansa felt her breath leave her lungs.

“Unless Ser Rodrik and Maester Luwin went blind and senile at the same time, they said it was her. So I believe them. We already know about the fake Arya in King’s Landing by the way.” Osha waved her hands dismissively.

“I see.” He spoke seemingly off foot.

“Back to the matter at hand. Winterfell is yours my Lady. To catch you up if you didn’t know. We’ve sided with Stannis. I think that’s obvious as the choices were him or Tommen. With Tywin dead the Lannisters should be on their back foot. They’d never come up to us and deal with us themselves so we are secure on the front.”

“Tywin is dead?” Sansa looked at Littlefinger.

“You see why I came here?” He had a smirk on his face. “Who is it that would come for me? Jaime is missing his sword hand and knows nothing of politics. Cersei is being replaced and would already have my head for getting you out of King’s Landing.”

“Yes, yes.” Osha spoke, drawing Sansa’s eyes back to her. “The biggest threats right now are the Boltons and Freys. Depending on what happens with the Greyjoy’s they’d be next. The north is split and if the Vale is on our side we might just win against our enemies. The Freys...should be first.”

Sansa found herself shivering at the tone of the wildling’s voice. “I would like to see my sister...it’s been so long.”

“She’ll be relieved to see you for many reasons. You’ll take her spot as Lady of Winterfell and she’ll be glad to have her sister back. You know she talks of how she regrets tormenting you...she should be with Maester Luwin getting her lessons in.”

Sansa started to walk then found herself running into the castle. As if drawn by instinct she went to her father’s study where Arya was writing something with Luwin standing behind her.

When Arya looked up at her she jumped out of her chair and ran to her. Sansa picked her little sister up in a hug and spun her around as they both laughed.

“Welcome back Lady Stark.” Luwin spoke to her.

“...you. You’ve come to save me!” Arya looked up at her with fake tears. “They tried to teach me how to be a Lady...it was awful.” She mocked.

“Well you don’t need to worry about that...how did you get home. Everyone thought…”

“I was dead? I cut my hair and went north, pretended to be a boy. I was hiding right under the Lannisters' noses. Then the Brotherhood nabbed me until I ran away...where the Hound brought me through the...Twins.”

“Don’t tell me…” Sansa found herself worried.

“I was there when it happened. The Hound stole a Frey banner and just rode through...I saw Robb and mother...they were already dead.”

“The Hound...did he treat you well?” Sansa asked.

“I guess...we’ve had our fights. He told me about how he offered to take you away from King’s Landing.”

“It’s true, if I would have known that he was coming here I might have gone with him.”

“It wasn’t as easy as that...but it’s not worth thinking about, because you made it here anyway. How are you here?” Arya asked.

“Littlefinger got me out of King’s Landing during Joffrey’s wedding...during the confusion we fled. That’s where I ended up in the Vale...where we waited for a time, until now.”

“I’m glad you’re safe Sansa...I’m sorry for all those things I last said to you.”

“It’s fine Arya...I wasn't the best sister either. But we’ve found our way back…”

“Have you seen Brienne yet?” Arya suddenly asked her.

“Who?”

“Brienne of Tarth. She swore an oath to protect us. She came here not long after I did. She’s become part of Winterfell just like the Hound.”

“The Hound is still here?” Sansa was shocked, why would he stay?

“Yeah, they’re drilling my men...guess they’d be your men now. That means more time for me to practice!” Arya sounded excited.

“There are a lot of new faces here...can you explain...how a wildling got here?” It had been bugging here for quite some time.

“It’s best I explain that.” Maester Luwin spoke up. “Your brother Robb brought her back after an encounter in the wolfswood with your brother Bran. Some of the Night’s Watch and wildlings worked together to come south. Robb thought she might be useful...and she has been. It is not my secret to tell you, but she’s saved us a few times over.”

“Then I’m glad Robb sent her to you.” Sansa spoke with a smile.

“I guess we should send ravens out about your arrival. We'll also reveal that Arya is back with us too. It will be good for morral. Then I’ll tell you our situation.” Maester Luwin started on his way to send out news of her arrival. 

There was a rumble and crash of armor that sounded outside of the room coming down the hall before a large short haired blond woman was standing in front of her in full armor.

“Lady Sansa! As soon as I had heard the news I came right away. I made a promise to your mother to keep you safe!” She sounded out of breath running in all the metal plating she was wearing.

“You must be Brienne. Arya has just told me about you. I’m sorry I was so hard to find, I was doing my best to hide.”

“Do not apologize my lady. It is only because you hid yourself so well that you were able to make it back home unharmed. It is I that has to apologize for not finding you sooner.”

“It’s alright. As long as you keep true to your word and protect me and my family, that is all I can ask of you.” Sansa felt a natural smile come across her face.

“I thank you my lady. You will not be dissapointed...now I’d best get back to Podrick, he hasn’t finished his work for the day. Lady Arya, Lady Sansa.” Brienne then went back down the hall.

“Stop calling me a lady!” Arya yelled after her. “This is your room now...good luck!” Arya then chased after the large lady knight. Leaving Sansa with a nostalgic feeling of time long ago.

It is not soon after that she watches Littlefinger leave back for the Vale to prepare troops for the war to come in the north. Sansa had put off seeing him, and insisted she had work to do on Winterfell. 

Before he left through the gates she saw him watching her with a sly smile on his lips. Always scheming she feared what person he was playing against.

Later at dinner she spotted the Hound. He was drinking cup after cup of whine. After his third she chose to approach. “As I live and breathe, the little bird has flown home.”

“I’m just as surprised to see you here.” Sansa watched him.

“Oh, you can finally stand the sight of me? Strange times indeed. As to why I am here? It’s because I’m being paid...and I have nowhere else to be.” He took another deep drink of his wine.

“You didn’t seem the type to train and stay in one place for long.” Sansa commented.

“Well maybe this dog is just looking for a place to rest before he dies. Wouldn't the Lannisters be shocked to see me now. The wolves have tamed the dog.”

“You’ve changed...you seem…”

“I’m not about to break into song am I? I have plenty to drink and gold in my pocket. I have nothing to complain about...am I happy? Never, but this is as close as I will ever get to it.” It was an honest moment she didn’t expect to have with one such as the Hound. “Now piss off.”

That sounded more like it. She left him to his drink as then passed by Rickon who she had finally seen for the first time since going to King’s Landing.

“Mother!” He cried and charged at her wrapping his arms around her waist. She felt a sting in her heart as she ran her hand through his hair. This...was not what she expected.

“He has been waiting on his mother’s return for so long...I don’t think he remembers what she actually looked like aside from her hair.” She heard Osha behind her. “It’s not my business how you handle this...but I wish you luck.”

As she passed she patted Rickon’s head with her own hand and flicked the back of Arya’s ear as she passed. Causing the girl to swipe at her. Osha then ran out of the Great Hall to wherever she was going.

For as much as she had changed the feeling of warmth that Winterfell gave her felt just the same as it had all that time ago.

Yara:

Ahead loomed the shore of Old Wyk and the hill above it, ribs of Nagga rose from the earth like the trunks of white trees, as wide as a mast and twice as tall.

Her father had declared himself king there. That was where she would declare herself with Theon as her Hand. His lockup and capture in Winterfell seemed to have changed him.

He went to Winterfell to prove his worth to their father. Now he’d come back with less flame in his soul. She would reignite those flames and make sure he served her well.

The deal she had made for him was one she felt strange about. She knew some of the lands taken were far too inland for the likes of them so they were no great loss.

As for working together with some of the north with Moat Cailin, she had expected news of fights and unfair treatment, but it seemed they had learned to coexist while preparing for a common enemy.

She would think on these things more for the kingsmoot. They were still Ironborn and the mainlanders were who they ravaged and took from. 

She had the support of her men but even with their support some pointed out others would not go for her...she was a woman. 

A woman was no king...she would just have to try twice as hard. With the support of even Theon the odds were looking better and better. Rodrik Harlaw, her uncle also supported her though he doubted her odds of winning.

Victarion had chosen to stay behind at Moat Cailin and step backwards from the kingsmoot because of her success with Theon. 

Then she spotted it. Silence, Euron’s galley. She avoided his ship and docked a short ways off. Aeron Damphair was waiting for her. “What is dead can never die.”

“But rises again, harder and stronger.” Yara knelt, praying with the man.

“Victarion has not arrived yet.”

“He won’t be coming.” Yara informed him. “He supports me if his vote still counts, I have a scroll of proof.” She handed it off for him to read as she marched further inland.

Theon followed behind as a good hand should. Aeron attempted to catch up while trying to unfurl the paper. “What you say is true. These are Vicarion’s words. Are you sure you wish to claim our father's crown?”

“I do.” Yara nodded. Blacktydes, Tawneys, Orkwoods, Stonetrees, Wynches, and many more were in attendance. That night they all feasted till Yara felt she nor her men could eat anymore.

She saw Baelor Blacktyde approaching and made sure she looked the part of a Queen or would that be a King. This would be a hard sell.

“Your father Balon was mad, Aeron is madder, and Euron is maddest of them all." Lord Baelor spoke, looking her in the eyes. “What is it you bring? If I shout your name, what will come of this war?"

“You’d like me to bend the knee?” Yara was confused.

“If it’d end this war we have.”

“...what if we didn’t have to. Have you heard about the Moat?” Yara asked.

“How you’ve given it up but still hold it. How have you accomplished that I wonder.” He looked her over.

“The north has honor...something that it seems we lacked. Yet they took my word, and we haven’t killed one another...aside from when we took land.”

“The Old Way is dead, maybe it is time we’ve found another way. It seems that youth has found more ways.” He then moved on.

Perhaps this should be Queensmoot if the waves were speaking right. Wind blowing in her favor. Aeron had come to find her once more. “You’ve just come from the north. The Iron Throne has named a new Warden in the Dreadfort.”

“Yes, I know. That is who Victarion is holding the Moat against.”

“Then you’d have us go against the Iron Throne?” He asked.

“Why, does that bother you?” She couldn't read the religious man.

“It’d be better than Euron...he means us to fight the whole world.” She could at least see the fear on his face at that point. Then there was silence, a scary thing during a feast that had as many men as this one did.

The Crow's Eye, Euron Greyjoy. Both blue eyes looked among the feast goers until he spotted them. “Tiny Yara…”

“Queen Yara.”

“I believe this to be a kingsmoot…?” He smiled a sharky grin. “And Aeron...are you going to be playing with us? So, any news on who slew Balon?”

“You might know more than any of us.” Yara looked him over.

“Do you accuse me?” Euron asked.

“Should I?”

“The Silence was at sea when Balon died. Just ask my crew.” Euron laughed.

“A good idea to ask mutes anything.” Yara rolled her eyes.

“It’d be a good idea to abandon this kingsmoot and find yourself a husband.”

“What of you?”

“The sea is who I call my wife...for now.” Euron seemed to have an idea. That worried Yara.

“Then I shall see you at the kingsmoot.”

“Very well. Your silence has been noted Theon.” Euron looked at her brother who simply stared at his back as he walked away. She would be Queen, and her news from the north would prove her worth.

There were loud beats all along the hill. as if a hundred trees were pummeling one another with their limbs. Then the kettledrums joined in the clamor.

It was time, she gathered her crew making sure Theon was with her as they took off up the hill. She saw the gathering of common people at the base of the knoll.

They were to go to the slopes as a captain, where they were joined by other captains and Lords. Aeron Greyjoy raised his bony hands and the noise came to a halt.

Only the sound of the waves pounding remained. “We were born from the sea, and to the sea we all return.” Aeron started his speech. “Balon has been struck from his castle and cast down, he now feasts in the Drowned God's watery halls. Balon is dead! The Iron King is dead!”

“The king is dead!” Men shouted from all over.

“Yet what is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger!” Aeron nodded. “Balon is dead...but another Iron King shall rise again to rule the isles.”

“A king shall rise!” they all shouted back. “He shall rise!” Or Queen, Yara thought to herself.

“But who? Who shall sit in Balon's place? Who shall be king over us? Are they with us now?” Aeron asked them all. Who would step forward first, who was the most eager. She expected Euron, but it seemed he thought he was expected to so, like his mute crew stayed silent.

“The Ironborn must have a king!” Aeron asked again. “Who shall be king over us?”

“I will!” Lord Gylbert Farwynd shouted up.

Voices all at once called from behind him. “Gylbert! Gylbert King!” Yara stepped out of his way with the other captains as he went up to stand at Aeron's side beneath the ribs of Nagga.

His three champions took up their position two steps below him. His three sons, Gyles, Ygon, and Yohn. One unfurled his banner, a black longship against a setting sun. “I am Gylbert Farwynd, Lord of the Lonely Light.” He spoke.

Farwynds...some said they were skinchangers, who could take on the forms of sea lions, walruses, even spotted whales. He made his promise then. He told of a wondrous land beyond the Sunset Sea.

The offerings before the kingsmoot included seal skins and walrus tusks, whalebone, and war horns of bronze. Yara and her fellow captains did not move. Leaving lesser men to help themselves to the gifts.

Only the Farwynds took up the cry, and not even all of them. Then faded to silence. The Lord of the Lonely Light made his way back down the hill. He would not be king.

Aeron asked again who would be king and another raised their voice to the call. “Me!” It was a deep voice. The anvil breaker, Erik Ironmaker. He was ninety years old and cloaked in a white bearskin.

He did not walk but was instead carried on a palanquin by three of his grandsons. Dagon, Thormor and Urek. The time for old men had passed, Yara thought. His gifts are silver, bronze and a few steel daggers and blades.

She’d had enough of this farce. “Erik!” She moved forward to the front of the crowd. “Erik, stand up.” She commanded. All around her there was a silence at her command.

“Thrice damned girl. What did you say?” Grey eyes looked down on her from the hill and elevated palanquin.

“Stand up, Erik.” She repeated. “Stand up and I'll shout your name with all the rest.” She shrugged, giving him a chance...knowing it would not come to be. “Stand up and I'll be the first to follow you. If you can just stand and take the crown.”

She heard Euron laughing behind her. It was harsh, but it showed the men who she was early without making her claim. They would know her for this. 

The old man's hands closed tight around the arms of his throne. His face went red, then purple. His arms trembled. A thick blue vein pulsed in his neck as he struggled to rise. Then he released a breath all at once sinking back into his chair. Euron laughed all the louder.

“As I thought…” Yara sighed. 

His grandsons took him back down from the hill, a defeated old man. Lord Dunstan Drumm came next. another old man, though not as old as Erik.

He climbed the hill on his own two legs, on his hip was Red Rain, a sword of Valyrian steel. His champions are Andrik the Unsmiling and Drumm's sons Donnel and Denys. It spoke well of Drumm that such men would stand for him.

“Where is it written that our king must be a kraken?” Drumm started. It was a good beginning. But then the old man began to tell of the glory of the Drumms. He spoke and spoke, and then he spoke still more.

His gifts of bronze did not win the crowd back to him. No throne was ever bought with bronze. It was time as Aeron called for another. “Who shall be king over us?”

“How about a Queen!?” She shouted and there were audible gasps, and they called her a lady. She moved forward with Theon, Ser Harras Harlaw, and Qarl the Maid. As her champions.

With Theon unfurling the Greyjoy banner. Ser Harlaw wore his Valyrian steel sword, Nightfall at his hip. While Qarl was renowned as one of the fiercest warriors of the Iron Islands.

“I bring more than just these three for gifts and supporters.” She spoke to the crowd. “As I have proven to Aeron, Victarion has supported my claim as well. With me I’ve brought his gifts as well.”

There was shouting in the crowd at the news. “Silence!” Aeron called to the crowd and they fell silent. Euron looked annoyed by the news but undeterred. “She speaks true, she has the support of Victarion.”

Those who planned to support her started looking to her with new hope in their eyes. “All I have been hearing is calls for a king. Why not, it is called a kingsmoot. But I find that lacking...instead I will call it my queensmoot.”

There were some laughs and rolls of eyes but that didn’t stop her. “No one can come before Balon’s son...not even a brother.”

Ralf the Limper called out then...he was one of Victarion’s “All I see is Balon's little daughter!”

“Then you are blind. Theon stands holding the Greyjoy flag, in his support of me.” Yara pointed down. “It seems so far everyone wants to give exactly what my father gave you. Well, what was that?” 

“Gold!” One of the men shouted.

“Glory!” Another spoke. 

“Freedom…” Nute the Barber looked on at her.

“Aye, but ask Lord Blacktyde what he gave...widows he’d say. How many of your homes burned when Robert came? Burnt towns and broken castles, my father gave you that. Defeat.”

“What will you give us?” asked Lucas Codd. “Knitting?”

“Aye, Lucas. I'll knit us all a story, one of the Young Wolf. A man who won every battle but ended up losing everything.”

“You speak of the north?” Ralf asked. “Where Victarion is?”

“Yes, the north. Far inland, far from the sea. We have taken Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen's Square. What do we have to show for it?” Yara asked.

“Word is we don’t have Moat Cailin.” Ralf pointed out.

“Is that not where Victarion is? But you are right, we gave it up. Yet we still hold it alongside the north. How is that?”

“You gave them up!” A cry from the crowd.

“I did, for my brother Theon and what he did for us...it secured me Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore. They will give us this land with trust, just as they seem to trust us to leave Moat Cailin. That’s two lands we’ve got by giving up land we do not need.”

“You’d have us give up land?” Nute asked.

“You want land…?” Yara asked. She beckoned, and her Black Wind men pushed forward, chests of oak and iron on their shoulders. “I give you the wealth of the Stony Shore!”

An avalanche of pebbles cascaded down the steps. “Not enough? How about the Deepwood?” The second chest was opened and Pinecones came pouring out. “Oh! How about the gold of Winterfell, I’m sure you’ve heard of how that went.”

From the third chest came yellow turnips, round and hard. They landed with the pebbles and the pinecones. “Harmund Sharp, you lost a son trying to take Winterfell, a land we could not even use. How many more turnips do you want, how many sons will you give?”

“What if I were to call your name? What would I gain?”

“Peace," said Yara. “Land. Victory. I'll give you all who call for me Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore, black earth and tall trees and stones enough for every younger son to build a hall. The northmen too as allies, to stand with us against the Iron Throne. Crown me, for peace and victory. Or crown my mad nuncle, for more war and more defeat. What will you have, ironmen?"

“Victory, and Yara!”

“Yara.” Lord Baelor Blacktyde echoed. “Yara Queen!”

Yara and her crew joined the tide along with her other champions. They stamped their feet and shook their fists and yelled. Tristifer Botley was shouting for her, with many Harlaws, some Goodbrothers, red-faced Lord Merlyn, more men for a woman than any man so far.

“Wait! Before I throw away the greedier of you lot. True gifts from Victarion and his quests.” Yara had her crew bring more chests out. 

A cascade of silver, gold, and gems, a wealth of plunder. Holdout captains scrambled to seize the richest pieces, shouting as they did so.

“You would have already given your gifts.” Aeron whispered. “I will not say anything not for your sake but Victarion’s.” She heard his soft words over the shouts for “Yara Queen!”

Then as the chants lowered a fracture she could make out a single repeating noise. She looked down and saw Euron approaching. 

He was slowly clapping for her and causing a silence as he walked by everyone. Euron Greyjoy climbed the hill slowly, with every eye upon him.

“Wonderful work. Really. I almost called out for you myself, until I remembered this wasn’t for making a queen. But a king. As much as you might like to rename it to queenmoot it is called a kingsmoot. I would like my turn to speak.”

Silence just as his ship name implied followed his speech. “Good. I am Balon's brother, Quellon's oldest living son. Only one living kraken has never known defeat. Only one has sailed to Asshai by the Shadow, and seen wonders and horrors beyond imagining-”

“If you liked the Shadow so well, go back there!” Qarl called out.

Euron ignored him. “There was talk of peace from my sweet niece. Of keeping down the path you’ve always known and finishing Balon's war to the north. Or changing. None of it matters, when we all die. I say that all of Westeros is dying.”

“I shall give you Lannisport. Highgarden. The Arbor. Oldtown. The Riverlands and the Reach, the kingswood and the rainwood, Dorne and the marches, the Mountains of the Moon and the Vale of Arryn, Tarth and the Stepstones. I say we take it all!”

What was this madman going on about? Bold words if they weren’t from one such as Euron. “If we cannot hold the north, which we cannot, how is it then, can we win the whole of the Seven Kingdoms?” Yara asked him.

“The same way Aegon the Conqueror did.” There were more gasps. “I’m surprised all of you look shocked. Well let me explain...magic is returning to the world. With it comes the return of the dragons.”

“There are no more dragons.” Yara protested.

Theon let out a small gasp below her. What did he know? “Again, girl, you are wrong. There are three, and I know where to find them. All of them are owned by Daenerys Targaryen. If she is to come to Westeros like I hear she has planned then it is us who will burn if we do not side with her.”

There was fear then among the captains and lords. The tide that fear brought was swaying weaker men. She must act. “And how is it you plan to get these dragons?”

“Simple, by marriage.” Euron grinned. “I will marry her, and she would be a fool to refuse me as our king. Who would command her Ironborn army and we would have it all. With blood and fire.”

The weak then shouted. Hotho Harlaw, as he filled his hands with gold. Gorold Goodbrother shouted out as well, and Erik Anvil-Breaker who she had humiliated had been given new life.

“Fuck, this is not good.” Yara cursed and turned to Theon. “Find all those still loyal to us over Euron and prepare our ships to leave.” Euron would be king.

Victarion:

He stood with Ralf Kenning looking out over the flatland of the swamps. The majority of the Boltons were being kept to the south, with Frey men backing their attempts to take the castle.

He was sure that at least a small portion would be able to make it through the swamps and get back to the Dreadfort for an attack on the north.

However most of their forces would still be south. With their support from the other northern lords they would hold off until the Boltons no longer posed a threat.

Many wouldn’t think of Greyjoys or ironmen as honorable. He would prove them wrong, he would stand and fight with the brothers in arms he had made with the men who were sent there.

They may not have been men of the sea, but they had killed and bled together as they held the Moat. They wouldn't break till the last man, with how they were being resupplied they might just make it through to the other side. 

He could only hope that Yara had stood strong with Theon and become Queen. Euron needed to die, by her hands...or his. That he promised himself.

“Flayed man banners approach from both north and south. There are no Freys. It seems we are only dealing with the Boltons today.” Ralf spoke to him. “We have a battle on two fronts. The larger army is to the south, but they’ve scrounged up sell swords for their north army.”

“Then we shall prepare. We will not lose this fight. What is dead may never die…”

“But rises again harder and stronger.”

They were holding the south but the north was still coming strong. He was to swap positions and head to the weaker battle. 

Maybe him being there would be the right morale boost they needed. As important the Moat was to the north, it seemed he was the man with the most experience there to hold it.

He might have wanted to keep Moat Cailin. If Yara hadn’t talked him out of keeping northern lands too far from the sea. Theon’s loss at Winterfell had proven their worth to the Ironborn when not at sea.

The sell swords weren’t as battle trained as much as the Boltons they fought with, they were easy to spot and call out for. Then in the distance he spotted something.

There were two riders one of them was leading while the other held back holding a banner of a grey direwolf. What were the Starks doing there?

They rode into the back of the Bolton force before the one in front dismounted. They had purple hair and taller than the horse that they rode in on.

In their hands they had a wooden spear as they marched forward with purpose behind the line. Then they lifted the spear into the air and pointed their other arm forward.

Fire spewed out in a hot wave forming the looks of a giant wolf that towered over the Boltons and Moat Cailin’s walls. 

The fire acted as if it were a living breathing being as it leapt into the air and dove down on top of the Bolton men and sell swords teeth first. 

They were not bitten instead absorbed in flames as they cried out in pain and terror. Victarion saw the right flank break as they ran from battle. 

The flames burned the siege ladders and all the corpses left at the foot of the Moat’s walls. Then the wolf looked into the air before letting out a howl of fire before dissipating into air the heat going with it.

The smell of burning and taste of ash was in the air as he looked out over the destruction. The purple haired rider remounted their horse while the banner holder held the horse for them.

As both rode closer he was able to make out that the purple haired rider was a woman. She wore furs that made her look wild even for a northerner. 

From the wall he was standing on he heard the whispers around him from all the northern men he had held the fort with. “The Witch of the North…” The name repeated between them.

What the hell was he getting himself into… “What are you all talking about?” Victarion asked the northern man closest to him.

“The Witch of the North was there in Winterfell...she kept it from being taken by...well your men, they saw a snake of fire come to life and eat all the Ironborn, but left them alive…” There was a slight fear in the young man’s eyes.

If Theon had gone up against that...it was no wonder he lost. Magic, he knew of time past where magic was prevalent but to see it in front of his own eyes…

“Open the gates, she’s riding to us.” Victarion commanded. He made his way down from the wall as both riders came through the now open northern gates.

“Who is in charge here?” The Witch asked.

“I am, Victarion Greyjoy.” He stepped forward. He wouldn't show fear.

“Osha.” She introduced herself. “This is Podrick Payne.” She gestured over her shoulder to see a young man fumbling to hold the Stark banner and keep a hold of the reins of his horse.

“We thank you for coming to help, we were doing our best to hold them in the North and South.” Victarion explained.

“We didn’t come here to help with the battle, but it is good timing we arrived when we did. We were headed to the Twins.” Osha waved away his thanks.

“The Twins?” He asked.

“The Freys have retribution coming. I will deal with them, then free Edmure Tully held inside, leaving Riverrun open to the Vale.”

“The men that passed through not too long ago…” Victarion spoke out loud.

“They made it through fine then?” She asked.

“Long gone by the time the Boltons chose to attack.”

“Captain Greyjoy!” One of his men ran up then. “The Boltons have broken off from the south and returned to the Twins!”

“Then it is another victory.” Victarion nodded.

“My path is clear then…” Osha spoke.

“Do you intend to do the same there as you have done here?” Victarion asked.

“The north needs a symbol. Freys killed the King of the North and even if we declared for Stannis they will not go unpunished. They have broken the guest right...for that they will suffer.” The Witch showed no mercy by her words. “If the Boltons have retreated to the Twins, it would mean two forces will be removed from the fight at once.”

Osha then rode through the Moat and to the other side where the gates opened for her. She rode south where he expected many more deaths to follow.

That night he received word from his scout that the Twins burned. The Frey towers were replaced by the Stark banner that had rode through that day.

Victarion expected her to ride back through with Payne. However that did not come, instead the next morning a raven came declaring they were free to leave the Moat if they wished.

Not too long later he received a raven from Yara explaining that they had fled the kingsmoot after Euron was declared king. 

She would have more details if he went to Deepwood Motte. So leaving Moat Cailin behind they would head north. 

Some of the Ironborn were now seen as allies to the north for their help in the defeat of both the Frey’s and for keeping the Moat out of the hands of the Boltons.

Sansa:

In the middle of the night there was a large crack of a noise in the middle of Winterfell. She was still awake, going over Winterfell’s expenses. 

For the coming days, food as well for all the men, women, and children they were hosting. Sansa got up from her chair and moved out to the hallway where Brienne was guarding her study door.

“Let’s go Brienne.” Sansa spoke before moving through Winterfell out to the courtyard. When they arrived Podrick was off his horse vomiting on the ground while Osha was calming the two horses.

“What happened?” Sansa asked the wildling woman. 

“We’ve gotten rid of the Bolton army to the south, whatever is left of them should only be at the Dreadfort. As for the Freys...well. I think anyone who sees the Twins will get the point. Edmure and his wife should be riding home to Riverrun along with whoever else they wanted to take with them.” Osha explained.

“Then Robb and my mother are avenged?” Sansa asked.

“They are, the Vale should have complete access to the north now. Moat Cailin is still under northern control.” Osha grinned.

“Good, I will allow the Ironborn you asked to stay behind to go where they want. Was it you that made that noise?” Sansa asked.

“Yes, that’s apparition for you.”

“Will Podrick be okay?” Brienne asked Osha.

“Once he gets his legs under him, for the first time it could have been much worse. Folding over oneself and traveling through space isn’t a pleasant experience.” Osha shrugged.

With a sigh, Sansa went back to her study and put out the candles before heading to her bedchambers for the night. She was sure word would spread about what happened in the morning.

Soon after that the ravens started pouring in. One from Baelish expressing his congratulations at the eliminations of House Frey and the wall they represented to the north. 

He let her know that the Vale would be ready to send troops when Winterfell requested. Now that they were proper allies. Days after that she received news from Raventree Hall that Seagaurd was the only castle left for the Freys.

Also that Edmure had arrived to rest and recover until they were ready to take the trip back to Riverrun which Lord Brynden Tully still held.

She was surprised to find a letter from Yara Greyjoy. The letter explained that despite the agreement made the Greyjoy forces had been split in two much like the north. 

With her followers wanting to make peace with the north, and her uncle wanting to take over all of Westeros. She asked whoever was leading Winterfell to send the Glovers her goodwill and warning of her arrival. So that they would not take arms against her or her allies.

Sansa started on a letter immediately and had Maester Luwin send it out for Deepwood Motte. All was going well. The Boltons were on the backfoot and they had allies in the Ironborn, Vale, and with Stannis.

Riverrun and the Tullys would need their help next the question was who to send. The Vale would be best, as the northmen were still needed for the Boltons and to keep Moat Cailin.

Jon:

Stannis had left to beat the winter, leaving for the last Hearth to gather allies where he could. On the wall he left Lady Melisandre. His wife and Shireen.

He left with a host of wildlings and his own men. In his letter to Jon he noted having troops now the number of five thousand and growing.

This had been thanks to his advice before he left. Now Arnolf Karstark and Mors Umber were part of his group headed to the Dreadfort.

He was woken in the night by Mully. Telling him a girl was found. He went down to find her. She looked no older than sixteen. He knew her as Alys Karstark. She had been six the last he saw of her.

It was there she told him of her uncle's plan. How her brother was a rightful heir but he took it for himself. She then revealed that her uncle was leading King Stannis on and would betray him on orders of the Boltons.

He sent out a letter in hopes that it would reach them in time. However with the winds and snow coming down as it had, he expected that it would be too late.

Cregan Karstark had come the next day after his niece where Jon had him arrested. Jon planned to make him take the black, knowing Stannis would have him killed if he did not.

Next he was to set off to Hardhome with Tormund in order to save the wildlings there and bring them back to Castle Black.  
Yara:

Yara had arrived at Deepwood Motte with those loyal to her. It was strange coming back to a place she had conquered, only for it to be returned to the Glovers.

She was going to wait for her nuncle there. It seemed the new Lady of Winterfell had done as she asked. The Golvers while untrusting led her into their Great Hall.

He arrived later in the week with news. Euron had married her to Erik Anvilbreaker whom she had humiliated during the kingsmoot. The humor of madness she thought.

Yara went on to explain how Euron had ended up king. She explained how he claimed he would marry Daenerys and use her three dragons to take over all of Westeros for the Iron Islands.

“That must be why he’s asked me to go to Slaver’s Bay.” Victarion seemed aglow. “He may think I will follow his word, he doesn’t know I am here.”

“He wants you to go collect her?” Yara was repulsed. 

“Aye...do you know what happened to my wife Yara?” He asked her suddenly.

“He killed your wife, if that is the true story.” That’s what she believed for so long. Why he had gone unmarried for that long after.

“Balon told me not to speak of it to any soul...he’s dead now, so I will say.” Victarion took a deep breath before looking down at his fists. “He put a baby in her belly and made me do the killing.”

“Wait...you...killed your wife, while she was with child?” Yara couldn't look the man in the eyes. “I am sorry for you." Yara found herself speaking. "And sorrier for her.”

“Do you not see what we should do next?” Victarion spoke in a different tone. “He stole my wife and despoiled her, so it is us that will have his!”

“You want to marry her?” Yara was not keen on the idea.

“Well, if that’s an option but I was more looking for her to side with us rather than him. So if and when he came for her hand, she would have no need for him.”

It was a plan, it would weaken what made Euron king. With the amount of ironmen they had on their side it would only require slight sway before they would make her Queen over Euron. If this was the best they had, then they would commit to the idea.Davos

They were making their way to the Dreadfort as planned, but winter had come sooner than they’d have liked. The men were already losing morale, having just joined King Stannis’ host.

Lord Fell started to boast. “Robert would have been at their gates a fortnight ago, thumbing his nose at Bolton from the battlements.”

King Stannis wouldn't like to have been in earshot of that. He would have had him and all those marching with him going nights and days.

Ever since they had started their march Stannis had changed. There was cold fury boiling just below the surface of his eyes.

Davos was glad to be rid of the Red Woman though. She had been whispering and controlling Stannis for the longest time. If they could just get to the Dreadfort battle would favor them.

The conditions of the weather did not. Marching further drained more of them than any battle would have. Ser Justin had opposed it from the start, along with many of the knights and lords who had come with Stannis from the south.

He was disappointed to say that he wanted Stannis to go back to Castle Black and wait out the weather as well. However all the men he had gathered from the north wanted the Dreadfort gone and dealt with. Stannis would lose men if he delayed any longer.

“Arnolf Karstark will join his strength to ours, never forget.” Harwood Fell insisted. Mors Umber as well. The woods are thick north of the castle. We will raise siege towers, build rams and such.”

Not many men shared his optimism. Word had gotten back to Stannis about some of the complaints. “We all know what my brother would do. Robert would gallop up to the gates alone, break them with his warhammer, and ride through the rubble to slay Roose Bolton with his left hand and the rest with his right. I am not Robert. But we will march, or die in the attempt.”

Ser Justin attempted to soothe some of the lords of the south. “Roose Bolton is feared, but not loved. The north has not forgotten the Red Wedding. The northmen will abandon him in dire times.”

The army covered twenty-two miles the first day but lost forty horses during the night. On the third day the forest pressed close around them, the roads dwindled down to game trails too narrow for larger wagons.

Stannis’ pavilion walls of heavy yellow canvas were badly faded, stained by mud and water, with spots of mildew showing. Davos found it represented them well.

On most nights he looked into the fire as if trying to see the future just as the Red Woman would. On the fourth day of the march, the day the snow began to fall heavier.

It stayed much the same the next day, and the day after, and the day after that. Before long the ground was blanketed in white, concealing stones, twisted roots, and deadfalls turning every step into an adventure.

The king's host became a column of snowmen. Soon the northmen started leading the pack, while the southern men fell behind. The baggage train fell further and further back.

It came as a shock when the train fell through a hidden layer of ice, they had crossed a lake. Frozen over by the cold and snow. 

Three teamsters and four horses were swallowed up by the freezing water, along with two of the men who tried to rescue them. One was Harwood Fell.

The followers of the red god still among his troop started speaking then of sacrifice. To stop the weather from taking them all. The wind became a lash as cruel as any slaver's whip.

Men could not warm themselves at night. Their tents were too wet and damp from the snow and prone to sudden collapse if too much snow fell on top of them. Dry wood became difficult to find.

Every camp saw fewer fires, those lit threw off more smoke than heat. With less fire, less food was cooked. More consumed cold and raw.

As Hand of the King he saw the least worst of it. Whilst others hungered, he was fed. Whilst others shivered, he was warm.

At one night two squires from the Stormlands stabbed a man at arms to death in a quarrel over who would sit closest to the fire. Another night some archers desperate for warmth managed to set their tent afire.

Any horse that went down was butchered on the spot for meat. Their provisions had begun to run low as well. It was King Stannis that finally spoke to him about going back to Castle Black himself for resupply.

“Even if I can get the supplies from the Wall there isn’t a chance it would get to you on time.” Davos tried to stop him. “I’m hardly a messenger.”

“You are the Hand of the king. We left on worse terms that I would like. You will tell them how desperate we are, go. I will not ask again, or I will find a new Hand.” King Stannis dismissed him.

Despite the harsh weather Davos did as his King asked and rode back north to the Wall. He only hoped that he could get the supplies back in time before the worst happened.

It took him less time to travel alone through the snow than it did to travel with the caravan. Within two nights he was already back at the Wall tired and freezing but with warmth that he would make it in time.

The Wall had many more wildlings than it did last, it was surprising that Snow had been able to get more with the many that they had taken.

When he got to the Lord Commander’s bedchambers he was shocked to hear that the Karstarks planned on betraying King Stannis. Before he could leave he was stopped by the Red Woman. Who looked at him with sad eyes.

He knew then that it was already too late. No one could have warned King Stannis, what had been a quest he disagreed with Stannis on had ended up saving his life.

He is resting in the bedchambers provided to him by Jon Snow when he hears it. Fighting in the middle of the night. Davos looked out into the darkness where he saw the final stab strikethrough Jon Snow killing him dead.


	5. Chapter 5

Jon:

When Davos had come back he didn’t know what to make of it. What would the Hand of the king come back to the wall for. Maybe he was to escort Queen Selyse, Princess Shireen, and Lady Melisandre.

Though they could have been escorted by the men Stannis had left behind to protect them at the Wall. So when Davos told him that they needed more supplies he was shocked.

When he asked for details he didn’t like what he heard. “Have you dealt with the Karstarks yet?” Jon asked.

“What of them? They were planning to join the march on our way to Dreadfort.” Davos looked him over. “They might have joined the march by now.”

“Then our message didn’t make it in time!” Jon yelled. “The Karstarks plan to betray KIng Stannis. If it is as bad as you claim...then the King will be easily defeated.”

“What? You cannot mean it! What proof do you have!” Davos demanded.

“Alys Karstark came here to warn us that her uncle had planned on betraying Stannis from the start. He works for the Boltons!” Jon told him a bit of panic let out in his voice.

“No…” Davos had turned pale. Then the door to his chambers opened and Lady Melisandre walked through looking shaken. “Is it true?” Davos turned to look at her.

“I’m afraid it is both true...and too late…” Lady Melisandre nodded her head. “King Stannis and his men are no more. I cannot see them through my flames.”

Davos looked broken and Lady Melisandre simply stared at him from the doorway before leaving, wherever she would go.

“I...need to tell Shireen...and Lady Selyse.” Davos started for the door.

“You can tell them in the morning, when you can put your words in order. I’ll allow you to have a room for the night...then you can decide what to do when the time comes.” Jon promised him. “You’ve rode far and hard. Rest now.”

“Thank you...Lord Commander Snow.” Davos let out his thanks in a whisper. Davos then left him to his work. Jon sat behind his desk and distracted his mind from all those lost.

All the Wildlings that were forced to fight for Stannis only to die...if they weren’t burned they could come back. There wasn’t any use thinking about it. There was nothing he could do.

He was thankful that he had gone to Hardhome and saved all the people he could. It had already seemed to pay off. Though that meant that Westeros was missing a King that would help the Night’s Watch.

He needed to start letters to King’s Landing and all the Lords. They needed men, wherever they could get them. So he worked into the night writing and reading letters from all across the continent. 

His attention was taken up by his door slamming open. It looked as if hours had passed. How long had he been sitting in that chair? With the realization his legs felt an ache deep within them.

He cleared his head with a shake and took in who was standing in his doorway now. “Lord Commander! Can you hear me?” Oh, it was Olly...he should probably ask what he needed.

“Yes, speak again?” Jon rubbed his eyes.

“It’s one of the wildlings you brought back from Hardhome. He said he had information about your uncle Benjen. Says he might be alive.”

“What!? Are you sure?” Jon jumped up from his desk the ache dulled by the news. He shook his legs trying to get his feelings back into them.

“Well...he talked about a first ranger...I can’t think of anyone else that might have been there.” Olly shrugged.

“Okay...take me to him.” Jon ordered. Olly then left, and Jon followed after him. When he got outside Alliser Thorne was waiting for him.

“The men are asking what he knows already, over there.” Thorne pointed to the large group of Night’s Watchmen all gathered in a massive huddle. “The wildling says he saw a first ranger on the last full moon.”

“He could be mistaken.” Jon tried not to get his own hopes up.

“Maybe, but it’s all the information we’ve gotten. Better than thinking Benjen dead, hm?” Thorne raised a single brow.

Jon left the man behind as he pushed through the gathered crowd. He would ask questions of his own to the wildling. 

Once he made it past the first couple they started to let him through filling the gaps after he passed them. Once he got to the front of the line the only thing that was there was a placard made of wood with a word. ‘traitor’ written in black on its front.

“What is the meaning of-” Jon started before Wick Whittlestick slashed at his throat, the words turned into a grunt. Jon twisted from the knife, just enough so it barely grazed his skin. 

He had been cut. When he put his hand to the side of his neck, blood welled between his fingers. “Why?” He then realized all the men around him had moved in.

“For the Watch!” Wick slashed at him again. This time Jon caught his wrist and bent his arm back. The steward backed away, his hands raised. 

Jon reached for Longclaw, but his fingers had grown stiff and clumsy. Somehow he could not seem to get the sword free of its scabbard.

Then Bowen Marsh stood there before him. “For the Watch!” He stabbed Jon in the stomach. When he pulled away, the dagger stayed where he had buried it.

Thorne then approached repeating the words of the men before him and stabbed him once to the left of where the dagger still lay embedded inside him.

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and ripped it free from his body. Pain washed over him. Olly then approached tears in his eyes and on his face a dagger ready for him.

“For the watch…” Olly whispered. He took the dagger and pierced him between the shoulder blades, he could only grunt as he fell face first into the snow. He never felt the knives after that. Only the cold.

Davos:

When he heard the screams of both Selyse and Shireen he was already moving. When he got close to where he heard the screams, he heard the noise of a door being destroyed.

He ran as fast as he could move. Two of Stannis’ men were dead in front of the smashed door with another just inside. There were a few men of the Night’s Watch dead with them.

He moved inside where he stabbed another in the back before stabbing the other in the front as he threw a bleeding Selyse to the floor. Davos was left the only man standing in the room.

He looked down at Queen Selyse. She wore a red beaded necklace across her throat as it pooled behind her head on the cobblestone floor. She was dead before she had even touched the ground.

“Shireen!” Davos yelled finding no signs of the girl. From one of the closests inside the room the daughter of Stannis came out with tears in her eyes. 

His heart broke she had both lost father and mother in one day...and she didn’t even know of one. Doing what he could he ran to her and knelt in front of her. 

“Listen to me, we are going to get out of here. So stick by me, do not look and do not make a sound.” Davos instructed. Shireen nodded before he took her by the hand and walked out of the room sword drawn.

Three men in the black started towards him and he shoved the girl backward deflecting the blade of the first man and stabbing through his middle.

When the other two started to come at him a large wildling jumped on them beating the first one in the head while other wildlings took the other.

“What’s happening?” The red headed wildling asked.

“The Night’s Watch has betrayed their Lord Commander Jon Snow.” Davos told him.

“...fucking crows…” The man snarled.

“We all need to leave the wall, it’s no longer safe here.” Davos told the man.

“Do you think so?” The man asked with a sarcastic grunt. “I’ll stay with you...you keep the girl safe, I’ll protect you Foot.”

“It’s Hand...and not anymore.” Davos sighed. They both battled their way out from the halls back outside. The snow was falling heavily just as when he had arrived.

Then he saw a red in the darkness. The Red Woman was loading a wagon...Was she leaving? “Take us down there!” Davos pointed down at the courtyard as he carried Shireen.

“Aye!” The man yelled before throwing a Night’s Watchmen from the wall they were standing on. The three of them battled down to the yard where the Red Woman still waited.

“Do you plan on leaving us!” Davos yelled at her.

“That was not my intent, wildling get as many of your men and women as you can. We ride out when you get back.” The Red Woman spoke.

“And where is it that we will go!?” Davos yelled. “I was in the march, we’d die before we got anywhere.”

“That was because Ki-Stannis did not take me with him. I could not protect him or his men. As to where we go? We go to Winterfell, with the body of Jon Snow.” The Red Woman said.  
Sansa:

Sana had woken up early to get her start on the day, the weather hadn’t let up in days and at the slightest hint that it might she had to be ready.

All of Winterfell had gone into a rest period, only those inside the walls of the castle could count on a warm day. She did have Osha set up spots where people could warm themselves up with whatever magic she did. 

Sansa didn’t understand the concepts behind it all just that it worked, and the spots gave off warmth. Early in the morning, the last thing she expected was to hear people outside the walls of Winterfell. More than one hundred if she guessed.

Thinking quickly she thought it might have been the Boltons, she didn’t expect them to have the men to siege Winterfell after the losses they’d taken, especially in the weather they were having.

So she roused up whoever she could to prepare for the worse including Osha, Ser Rodrik, the Hound, and whatever troops were prepared for the night. 

Osha would take the wall while the rest held firm behind the gates of Winterfell. “What do you see Osha?” Sansa asked her magical advisor.

“Wildlings...more than I can count. With a wagon taking up the rear.” Osha sounded confused.

“Could the Night’s Watch have fallen?” one of her soldiers asked another. Sansa instantly thought of Jon. What had happened to her half brother if all the wildlings had finally gotten past.

“Do you recognize any?” The Hound asked Osha.

“Oh yes, we all knew each other on the other side of the Wall. It’s not like we ever fought over food or land. Why...there’s Tom, Richard, and Harry! Right over there.” The wildling woman pointed.

“Fuck off, I get it. Stupid question.” The Hound spat.

“I may not know them...but I can try and talk to them. See if I can get a reason for why they came here...maybe get them to leave if they are trouble.” Osha sighed.

Osha then put her wand to her throat and spoke out over the castle wall to all those outside. “I am Osha of The Haunted Forest! Who speaks for you? Why have you come here, to Winterfell!”

“I am Tormund Giantsbane, from Ruddy Hall! We’ve come here because we’ve escaped the Wall. The Crows have gone mad and killed their own Lord Commander Jon Snow!”

“Jon!” Sansa gasped. All around her the news spread. Those that knew of him were all saddened to hear the news.

“I ask again, why have you come here?” Osha demanded to know.

“Uh…” The wildling didn’t answer until there was a scuffle.

“I am Davos Seaworth! Ex-Hand of King Stannis. We come for shelter from the cold, and to give a safe place to his daughter Shireen.” Davos spoke.

“What’s happened?” Osha asked with a concerned voice.

“Stannis marched on the Dreadfort, the weather did not let up...then the Karstarks lured him into a trap. If there is any justice they died from the winter along with those they betrayed.” Davos sounded tired. “Please, let us in. We have the body of Jon Snow with us!”

What? Sansa felt herself reacting to emotion alone. “Let them in!”

“Very well.” Osha spoke. Below Winterfell’s men opened the gates a wagon rolled in being driven by a woman in a red hood, next to her was a child wrapped in many layers. The horses pulling the wagon seemed tired and terribly cold.

“Get those horses tended to.” Sansa spoke and people moved. Sansa moved to the wagon and ran to the back. There she saw the body of her half brother, a shocked look still expressed on his face as if frozen. 

Next to him lay Ghost who stayed next to Jon as if protecting him. She let herself cry silently as she looked on. What had happened to him?

There was the sound of movement behind her, as Osha got close. “Stabbed to death...so many cuts…”

“I can save him.” A calm exotic voice spoke. Sansa turned to see a woman with copper hair. The driver of the wagon.

“There is magic on you…” Osha spoke looking her over. “Oh, and what’s that around your neck.” She clicked her tongue. “Powerful stuff…”

“You-How do you…” The woman in red was shocked.

“Not important. You say you can save him?” Osha asked.

“I can…”

“Then do whatever you can to!” Sansa begged.

“I’d like access to a place where I can work.” The woman said.

“I’ll take you somewhere.” Osha then pulled out her wand. “I’ll bring the body with us.” Then with a point of her wand Jon floated into the air drawing gasps from those all around to see the sight. Ghost trotted after the three of them whimpering all the while.

The two women headed into Winterfell. Sansa moved back to the front of the wagon where Davos helped the girl down. “Thank you Lady Stark.” Davos spoke with gratitude in his voice. “Do you have a place for Shireen?”

“She can have my old room.” Sansa nodded. “Ser Rodrik, please take them there.”

“Thank you so much.” Davos nodded back before following the Master of Arms. Sansa turned back to the crowd of wildlings. Now she just needed to deal with the rest of them.

Jon:

He woke up taking a breath as if it was his first. His first thoughts are of those that betrayed him...then of questioning exactly where he was.

The ceiling above him seemed familiar as if he had been here before, but was unsure of when. He felt warmer than, had felt in months thought he felt bare. 

Then two faces came into view above him, a woman with a heart shaped face and purple hair and Lady Melisandre. “That worked…” The purple haired woman seemed surprised.

“I was not sure it would...but the Lord of Light has granted him a second chance and me as well.” Lady Melisandre spoke with an odd voice.

“God based magic...that seems like it’s asking for trouble and for it not to work most of the time.” The other woman shook her head.

Jon then realized he was naked and sat up quickly. He jumped when he heard a bark, and suddenly he was pounced on by a white furry beast. Ghost! He was okay!

“He’s been clamoring for you for awhile now.” The woman with purple hair informed him.

“Who are you?” Jon asked. “Where am I Lady Melisandre.”

“I’m Osha, you are in Winterfell. What’s the last thing you remember?” Osha asked him kneeling to look at him in the eyes.

“I was...stabbed...by all my men.” Jon remembered it well, the feeling of being stabbed. The betrayal stung deep within his heart.

“Tough way to die.” Osha shook her head.

“Die?” Jon looked up concerned.

“Of course you died. People don’t just walk away from being stabbed...one...two...three…” She counted looking at his chest. When he looked down he saw the open wounds where he was stabbed.

Jon got up from the table quickly and felt over his own body. “Careful! You’ve just been brought back!” Lady Melisandre spoke with urgency he wasn’t expecting.

“We’re in Winterfell?” Jon asked, looking around the room and then realizing…”We’re in my room…”

“Thought a place of familiarity might be good.” Osha spoke.

“I have to get back to the Wall!” Jon insisted.

“Sorry Jon Snow, your watch has ended. Death will do that to you.” Osha laughed. “Your crows that killed you were put to death. On command of the new Lord Commander someone named Edd. If that means anything to you?”

“Edd...then, I’m alive? Freed from my vows? What about the wildlings?” Jon asked concerned over what might have happened after they died.

“They’re here in Winterfell, come to join you. Might do them good to tell them you’re alive yourself.” Osha smirked. “Your sisters and brother might want to see you as well, though I don’t know if Rickon will remember you.” She sighed.

Rickon, Arya, and Sansa...he could see them. He had wanted to come see them so many times but his vows...which no longer held him at the wall were gone.

He got ready to leave his room when a hand touched his shoulder. “As much humor as I’d find in the idea of you going out ‘Stark’ naked. You should really get dressed.” Osha raised her eyebrows at him.

Looking down with a blush he covered himself up with his hands. Lady Melisandre handed him a warm set of clothes and then both women left him.

He dressed as quickly as possible before heading out. Outside the door he was surprised to see Tormund waiting. 

“My is it hard to kill you Jon Snow. Even killing you wasn’t enough. Before you headed out I wanted to give you what you nearly left behind.” Tormund reached his fist out sideways where Longclaw was held sideways in its scabbard.

“This should be given to the Lord Commander…” Jon almost denied.

“Ha! He thought you’d say that. No, he said it belonged to you.” Tormund shook his head as Jon took the sword before turning his back. “I’m glad you didn’t die at the hands of those fucking coward crows.” Then he walked away.

It didn’t take long for Jon to find Arya, she was in the courtyard training with needle slashing at what looked like vital points of a practice dummy.

He cleared his throat causing her to turn around. He knew she had spotted him when her eyes lit up. “Jon!” She yelled before rushing at him, sword tucked away at her waist.

When she got into his range he grabbed her up by the sides and spun her around as she laughed. “Why does everyone pick me up!” She laughed as she complained.

“Because it is easy to.” Jon grinned a smile taking over his face unconsciously. “I see you still practice with Needle.”

“...well, this isn’t exactly Needle. I lost it during my escape...but as soon as I got back to Winterfell I had Mikken make a copy. I practise with it every day though, I thought I’d never see you again.” She pressed herself into his shoulder.

“I had hoped one day...but I guess I don’t need to worry about that anymore.” Jon felt himself accepting his ‘retirement’ from the Wall.

“They said you came to Winterfell really hurt. Was it Osha that fixed you up?” Arya asked him.

“I think she helped? I’m not sure...what’s her story by the way? I definitely don’t remember her living here.”

“She’s a wildling that Robb brought in for Bran as far as I can tell. She has magic that helped everyone in Winterfell. Now she helps run it. She even avenged Robb and mother for us.”

“How did she go and do that?” Jon asked. Though he disputed the use of mother for Lady Catelyn in his case, he wouldn't say it outloud.

“She destroyed the Twins and freed uncle Edmure and many others...only Podrick really knows what happened.” Arya looked lost.

“Who’s Podrick?” Jon had to familiarize himself with many people he guessed.

“He’s Brienne’s Squire...and Brienne is the heir of Tarth.” Arya added.

“Tarth? That’s...in the Crownlands?” Jon tried to remember.

“I think so?” Arya seemed unsure.

“I guess it isn’t important. How did you get...here?” Jon asked looking around Winterfell. “They said you were lost for so long.”

“Not too important...just found some people to help along the way...and now here I am.” Arya didn’t go into detail. “You have a bunch of friends it seems...the wildlings talk of you with a lot of respect, though I can’t say I’m an expert on wildlings. The only one I know is Osha and she acts...like anyone else.”

“Yeah, friends.” Jon nodded. He thought of the trouble he’d gone through. Of Mance and Ygritte. Then he thought of Sam who would be in Oldtown and of the Others still marching toward the Wall. “I need to speak with Sansa...or Maester Luwin.”

“The Maester Luwin is resting, Sansa...hardly sleeps since she became Lady of Winterfell...can’t say I envy her. She should be in fath-...I mean her study.” Arya choked.

“Oh, Arya I’m so sorry...I wish I was there to help.” Jon couldn't imagine the chaos of it all.

“It’s not your fault...it’s just that Starks don’t do well in the south.” Arya sighed then turned back to the dummy and started hacking at it. He felt as if he was dismissed, then headed for the study to find Sansa.

She was right where Arya said. Sitting behind the desk writing whatever it is she was. Walking in was as if he walked into a memory. 

It was just as if Lord Eddard was back behind his desk if with red hair. Shaking off the marose feelings on him he moved forward and knocked on the arch on the door. “Sansa...may I speak with you?”

“Oh Jon! You’re back!” Sansa jumped up from behind the desk and he took in the size of her. She was almost as tall as he was now fully grown. “When that woman said she could bring you back...I guess I just expected it to take longer…”

“Lady Melisandre...she was Stannis’ advisor, I guess you could say aside from Ser Davos.” Jon explained.

“Well we have one of our own here in Winterfell, have you seen Osha yet?” Sansa asked.

“She was there when I...came back.” Jon nodded. “I’m sorry if I put off any catching up, I need to talk to you.”

“Of course.” Sansa took a small breath before a mask seemed to slide over her face. It was an amazing sight to see. “What do you need to talk about?”

“The Others, this might sound crazy but-” Jon was interrupted.

“We know about the Others. Osha told us about why she came south of the Wall. We know about their existence, we just can’t do anything about them. So we have to wait on anything to do with them.” Sansa put up a hand.

“You know? Then...are we even remotely prepared?” Jon asked.

“How does one prepare for the eternal dead?” Sansa asked, her voice raising slightly. “All Osha talked about was escaping them, we also have larger things to worry about at the moment. The dead may come but right now the north is divided and the south still fights because of the Lannisters!”

“Dragonglass! We need dragonglass! Valyrian steel will also kill the dead.” Jon stepped forward into the room.

“Oh, then I’ll just get right on collecting all the Valyrian steel and Dragonglass in Westeros. We already have, Oathkeeper, that’s one down.” Sansa threw up her hands.

“Two...I have Longclaw…” Jon added hesitantly. At the raised eyebrow he received he looked down at the floor. “I also know where we can get dragonglass.”

“Where might that be?” Sansa asked him with a sigh.

“Stannis said it was abundant in Dragonstone.” Jon spoke softly.

“Dragonstone...in the crownlands…” Sansa looked up into the air. “Shall I explain how useless that information is at the moment?”

“No…” Jon sulked. She was right, with the fighting getting to Dragonstone would be impossible for them. “What if...we solved some of the fighting?” He asked, catching her attention.

Sansa:

“You’re sending Osha to the Riverlands?” Brienne asked her.

Sansa looked up from her desk. “She said she already partially went down there, so the trip would be easier for her than anyone else.” Sansa shrugged.

“Wouldn't she be more useful storming the Dreadfort?” Brienne questioned.

“Why, do you think that would be a better use of her skills?” Sansa leaned back in her chair. Why was Brienne coming to her with this?

“I’m not sure, but I’d like to go to the Riverlands instead...if what I hear is true I’d be of use there.” Brienne insisted. “I may not be able to end the struggle but I can weaken it’s leadership.”

“You want to go? Fine, you can either take Osha with you or tell her she’s joining Jon and the wildlings for troops and the Dreadfort.” Sansa rubbed her eyes and Brienne left the study. She was getting exhausted.

With Shireen being the last legitimate Baratheon it would make her Queen, with her father dead. That was, even if Shireen accepted the position. 

Ser Davos seemed to latch onto the idea as her new Hand. It added stress to Sansa that she was hosting the potential Queen of the iron throne in Winterfell, even if the girl seemed more than nice in her demeanor.

It meant they had already taken a side by even hosting her. Though it did get her thinking, if after the Long Night came they asked Shireen for independence in the north would that be acceptable?

It would be something she needed to think about while she sent out people to their southern and northern enemies. 

At least it was only a battle on two fronts, with Tywin dead and Tyrion gone the Lannisters to the south would make many mistakes.

The Boltons and their allies were already weakened from their failed attempts to take any more land in the north. They were sure to win and eliminate all those that had betrayed them in the north.  
Jaime:

Raventree Hall was old. Jaime thought as he looked on the mossy ancient stones. Two huge towers were at the castle's main gate, smaller ones defended every angle of its walls. All were square.

No great hosts encircled Raventree, as Riverrun had been encircled. The loss of the Twins and all the Freys that had lived inside was a shocking one. 

Everyone had gotten the message of the Stark banner flying overhead. He couldn't exactly blame the retribution. They had broken the guest right...at his father's command.

Everywhere Jaime looked he saw his father's handy work. The burned and torn apart land. Now it was his father that was dead. Killed by Tyrion’s own hands. After Jaime had freed him. Now they had to clean up all the mess. 

Even his father’s dog had died, The Mountain not before pissing off the Martells in killing Oberyn Martell. Nothing had gone right for them in a long time.

Edmure had escaped and was held up in Raventree with his uncle the Blackfish. They had nothing on the Tullys and he knew it.

Everything his father had done made the Lannisters feared, but also hated. They were the enemies of most lands now it seemed aside from the Tyrells. 

He wondered how long that would even last. They weren’t known to back a losing party. They had switched allegiances too many times before. Now it was just him, Tommen and Cersei.

Jaime looked over the map. The left over Freys had taken land in the Riverlands with Lannister assistance. This siege was a more intimate affair. With no prospect of relief in sight, they would move to starve the castle out.

Once it yielded, his work along the Trident would be done, and he would be free to return to King's Landing. To the king, his son's side part of him whispered. Another part of him whispered, to Cersei.

He would have to speak to her when he got back. Assuming the High Septon had not put her to death by the time he got back to the city. 

Even if he had gone back when he first heard the news, he could not hope to save her. She was guilty of every treason laid against her, and he was short a sword hand. 

Tommen had also stripped him of his white cloak and position after Queen Margaery had been released. So here he was in the Riverlands as a knight rather than a Kingsgaurd.

Then there were the promises and oaths he had made. To find and protect Sansa, while the other had disappeared. There were rumors they were both back in Winterfell but the north hadn’t said anything about it, for what reason would they.

With Varys gone his web and little birds disappeared with him. Their information network was worked out only on rumor alone. There was nothing else they could go on.

Jaime thought of Brienne. Wondering if she had found them or even just one of them. For an instant, the red clouds that crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar's children, all wrapped up in crimson cloaks.

It was near midnight when two sentries he had posted came riding back with a woman they had taken captive. “She rode up bold as you please, m'lord, demanding words with you.”

Jaime scrambled to his feet. “My lady. I had not thought to see you again so soon.”

“My lord, you gave me a quest.” She touched the hilt of her sword. Oathkeeper, the one he’d given her.

“The girl. Have you found her?” Jaime asked intensely, directly looking her in the blue sapphire eyes.

“I’ve found both of them.” said Brienne of Tarth.

“Where?” Jaime asked they weren’t with her, which meant what?

“A day's ride. I can take you to her but you will need to come alone.” Brienne seemed to beg him with her eyes. Could he just abandon this task to join Brienne?

She still wore her armor that looked well kept and Podrick rode by her side. They looked well fed, so they did not have as many troubles as he feared she might.

Bronn seemed to take Podrick to the side while Jaime and Brienne spoke to one another. He could see joy in the sell sword while they chatted.

Having heard no word, he thought she was dead somewhere along with Sansa. If he left the men would go as they were, simply waiting out hoping those in the castle would starve...even if they had enough supplies for two years in there.

What was it he had left to stay for. Cersei would most likely die, Tommen would rule on Tyrell strings and he would be stuck here...waiting to starve a castle. He looked into her eyes and gave her his answer.

Yara:

They had sailed to Volantis for a stopping point to restock and let their men rest. Though part of it was to gain more information about where exactly Daenerys Targaryen was at that moment.

When they docked they received much news that had her men slobbering at the bit. Stannis Baratheon was dead, leaving only his heir and daughter in the north.

Which meant that the Stormlands would be in a state for takeover. Not only that but even more recent and terribly tragic news was that of the news from King’s Landing.

Apparently the Sept of Baelor had been blown sky high in green flames. Eliminating all those inside and around the area. Those numbers included those of the Reach along with the Queen and King.

Thinking quickly she divided her loyal men into ships they had. Two ships and a quarter of loyal men would sail to the Reach and take the coast under Beron Blacktyde and Ser Harras Harlaw. 

Another two ships with the same amount of crew would head to the Stormlands, under Tristifer Botley and Qarl the Maid. Then finally were the Crownlands.

Victarion Greyjoy would lead next to Ralf Stonehouse for the lands along the coast of the Crownlands including Dragonstone. 

She and Theon would stay and head to Slaver's Bay where Daenerys Targaryen had set up in Meereen. They would have the rest of the ships with barely the needed crews to sail them and hopefully be taken up on the offer to sail to Westeros and given more men.

As they were, in Volantis for a short while she felt she deserved to see what the city offered as far as their drink and women. She had to turn down both Qarl and Botley in their asking to bed her.

Tristifer Botley had unruly hair, and eyes as large and trusting as a seal's. Sweet eyes. That was the trouble; he was too sweet for the Iron Islands. His face was comely, though not to her liking.

Of the five boys her mother had brought to Pyke to foster after Ned Stark had taken Theon, Tris was the closest in age to her. 

He had stolen her first kiss and had not let go of holding affection for her since. Tris began to go on about the children she would bear him. A dozen sons at least, and some daughters too.

She had been relieved when Tris was sent away. Maester Qalen sent him away to Blacktyde. Then they met again at the Kingsmoot. His feelings still held strong for her.

“I swear upon the bones of Nagga, I have never touched another woman!” He promised. She also knew of the letters he sent that she did not reply to.

“Go touch one, two, or ten. I have touched more women myself than I can count. Some with my lips, some much more than that.” Yara shrugged. 

She had surrendered her virtue at six-and-ten, to a beautiful blond haired woman on a trading galley up from Lys. She only knew six words in Common Tongue, but "fuck" was one of them.

As for Qarl, when she first met him he had been trying to raise a beard. Though it was only peach fuzz. Qarl had never seen a peach up to that point so she took him on her crew.

She found him much more appealing though it had to do with his womanly looks that he had been mocked for. He had a swimmer's body, long and lean, with not a scar upon him.

A shy smile, strong arms, and a great warrior. What more could any woman want? She would have married Qarl if not for the fact that she preferred the company of women.

He was much like Tris in his love of her, only he only looked on from afar knowing she was Lord Balon's daughter and he was common born, the grandson of a thrall. Too lowborn for him to even think of getting close to.

She rejected both men instead giving them a quest back in Westeros. Then she found a woman for herself in one of the whorehouses of Volantis to spend the night with.

Brown hair, nice breasts and an ass she would never have found on the Iron Islands. She had spotted Theon with a pale woman with red hair with height that countered his own.

As she pulled the whore to a bed she wondered if that was his taste now having spent so long in the north. She didn’t think about it long when the whore found just the right spot.

When they had arrived in Mareen they were greeted by a burning shipyard. Smoke billowing into the sky as a seeming word of warning.

Slaver ships if Yara could place them through the smoke and ash. It seemed those dragons of hers had been busy. It was good they had gotten to her first and not Euron.

When they were allowed in Theon seemed surprised to see a dwarf standing below the Queen wearing the badge of the Hand. “What is it?” She asked.

“That’s Tyrion Lannister…” Theon explained.

“Yes, last we saw each other I was leaving Winterfell.” Tyrion spoke. “You were...making fun of my height I believe?” He spoke to Theon seeming much taller than her brother.

“Hand of the Queen? Nice work by the way. Taking out a king, a mountain indirectly with trial by combat and your own father. Seems the Queen has picked the right hand to oppose the Lannisters.” Yara japed.

“A woman of humor...I’ll have you know I did not kill my nephew.” Tyrion claimed.

“The slight loss at the trial by combat might suggest differently, but if you claim the others then who am I to argue.” Yara grinned.

“Yes, and news of yourself has reached my ears too. Working with the northerners and getting land in the north for a simple trade. It seems the Ironborn are looking more diplomatic.”

“...Some…” Yara twisted her hand side to side. “Those that follow me, but I am not the Queen of the Iron Islands and not every Ironborn follows me.”

“And what about your brother, after his failing to take Winterfell he’s still alive.”

“Part of the trade…” Yara nodded.

“And so you live, let me ask you Theon. Was it worth it?” Tyrion turned to her brother.

“No...but I’ve learned from my mistake.” Theon stood tall.

“Let us move on from this.” The Queen finally spoke. Yara found her pretty, if a bit too godly on her throne. “You’ve come here with ships and men. You spoke of the Iron Islands and how you were not Queen. You want my support?”

“Well you can deal with our uncle instead. He got the driftwood crown by saying he’d marry you for control of your dragons. As your hand said, I am the more...diplomatic option. I have men taking land in the south of Westerose for us as we speak.”

“Has the Iron Islands ever had a queen before?” Daenerys asked her.

“No, and I had nearly won my spot but greed for more always prevails weaker men’s hearts.” Yara found her voice souring.

“What about your father...had he not died...he would have stayed king? I hear he was terrible.” Daenerys looked at them both.

“It was his grudge against the north that had Theon captured, the way I see it. And it’s not just us who’s had a terrible father.” Yara stared directly at the Targaryen woman.

“I concede on that point. Then it is on us to make our houses better, than our fathers made it.” The Queen smiled at her. Yara wondered if she could bed her, but thought better of it. “What do you think, Lord Tyrion? Will their help work to bring us safely to Westeros?”

“If what they say about taking land is true, I see no problem in it. Though I have to wonder if you plan to keep true to your word.” Tyrion looked them over.

“Yes, you say your uncle wants the seven kingdoms? Do you not?” The Queen asked them.

“As Theon and my father had learned, we don’t do well with land not by the sea. Once this war is over we will be willing to trade coastal castles back for a few we can keep in advantageous locations around the Seven Kingdoms and the Iron Islands.”

“You ask for independence. To be Queen of the Iron Islands?” Tyrion seemed unsure then turned to his Queen. “What if other kingdoms also ask for independence. The north did.”

“They are free to ask.” Daenerys shrugged. “Now, working with me means supporting my rule. That means you cannot take land as you see fit once I am Queen. As they would be mine.”

“If you give me what I ask, then we can work with that. Business between us will help both of our kingdoms.” Yara nodded before extending her hand. Daenerys took it and the deal was struck.

Sansa:

Osha had come back to Winterfell with a crack, smelling of ash and burned meat. They had easily taken the Dreadfort and Karhold. 

They now had all of the north as allies with no one to stab them in the back, though Sansa remained cautious.

Sansa then told Osha of the news from the south. The Sept of Baelor’s destruction and the deaths of many men, women, and children.

“Wildfire, how much could have still been around after it’s use against Stannis…?” Osha questioned herself seemingly.

“We might have someone who would know. Brienne has returned with Jaime Lannister. He is locked in the Winterfell dungeons. I’d like you to join me as we...give him the news and question him.”

“Jaime Lannister is here?” Osha asked, she seemed shocked. “How did Brienne get him here?”

“I do not know, but he came riding under his own power.” Sansa remembered having him arrested. The Hound had personally bound his hands and put him in his cell.

“Then we should speak to him right away.” Osha insisted. Sansa and Osha ventured to where she had the Kingslayer locked up. Inside she heard soft words being spoken.

When Osha opened the door inside they saw Brienne talking to Jaime who was listening to her from his bed. “Lady Stark!” Brienne looked shocked at her appearing.

“Lady Brienne, what are you doing here?” Sansa asked.

“I was just-” Brienne was stopped by Jaime.

“She was just leaving.” He spoke and Sansa allowed her to leave without being questioned. “I hope you do not punish her for coming and speaking to me.”

“I am not a Lannister and this isn’t King’s Landing.” Sansa let a growl into her voice.

“No...I suppose you are not. So what is it you visit your lowly prisoner for?” He was acting cocky.

“I’ve come with news...all of it bad.” Sansa felt pity for him then.

“What is it?” Jaime looked worriedly at her then cocky facade going away in an instant.

“I’m sorry…” Sansa found herself whispering. “Tommen is dead.”

“What…” Jaime seemed to look right through her. “How!?”

“There was an explosion of wildfire. The Sept of Baelor exploded. Killing-” She choked. “Margaery and Loras Tyrell. Along with everyone else inside. Tommen jumped from the Red Keep...so they say.”

He gripped the bars until his palms and fingers turned white. “...and Cersei?”

“She had just served her punishment and was within the Red Keep. As far as I know she’s still alive. I’m sorry about Tommen. He was one of the few people kind to me, and an innocent in the game of thrones. He didn’t deserve to die.” Sansa felt her heart break for the boy who played with cats.

“...it all smells of my sister’s work...she exacted revenge on the faith and got rid of a perceived enemy in Margaery Tyrell...how many lives…” Jaime seemed to stare at the bars he held in his hands.

“I’m sorry to ask, but how much wildfire might be left in King’s Landing. We thought it would be gone destroying Stannis’ ships.” Osha asked.

“All below the city...so much more.” Jaime looked lost.

“Are you sure?” Osha asked.

“Of course I’m sure!” He suddenly yelled. “I saved the city from it once! But I guess that wasn’t enough!”

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked, finding herself breathing hard.

“Why do you think I killed the Mad King?” Jaime looked at her hard in the eyes. Sansa found herself looking back and found anger and sadness inside them.


End file.
